The Very Best Thing
by Snapegirlkmf
Summary: Before Snape was Potions Master, he met a woman who changed his life forever, then lost her. Now he learns of an unexpected child. Can he learn to be a father to a 13 year old girl, while hunting a dark witch to the death? Summer of 3rd year,Snape centric
1. A Quiet Place

_**Part One: Severus & Amelia**_

_A secluded glen somewhere in the Highlands of Scotland:_

The morning mist was just rising off the tender shoots of new spring grass and the heather was blooming in lavender clumps across the floor of the glen, a sure sign of the coming of spring. Several thickets of gorse and gooseberry hid the pretty spot away from chance travelers happening on it.

To the west rose sheer rock cliffs and somewhere off to the east burbled a mountain stream, its crystal clear depths icy from the snowmelt. Meadowlarks and thrushes warbled in the dawn in chorus and a family of rabbits nibbled at the clover cautiously at the edge of the glen.

This quiet mountain retreat was far from the everyday hustle and bustle of the modern world, a place to sit and ponder, to be still and reflect, a place where Severus Snape could be assured no one would find him.

He had discovered the peaceful glen by chance one day, hiking up there for potion ingredients, and had claimed it for his own—if one could say such a thing of this wilderness retreat, pristine paradise that had known the touch of only one man in all the centuries it had stood there.

The young wizard considered this spot his refuge, the one place he could go to where he would be undisturbed, where his fellow wizards would not come, a place he could count on to soothe the troubled spaces in his soul.

Of which there were many, more perhaps than any twenty-one year old should be expected to carry.

But that was nothing new. Sometimes it seemed to Severus that his life was one long chain of missed opportunities, lost chances, and mistakes—mistakes beyond number, some of them unforgivable.

Such as the one that had led him to join the Death Eaters—that secret society of Dark Wizards dedicated to the support of Lord Voldemort—otherwise known as He-Who-Mustl-Not-Be-Named—who sought to spread a reign of terror and destruction through the world of wizard and Muggle alike that rivaled Armageddon.

Most of the members of Voldemort's band were fanatics who believed inherently in the superiority of pure-blooded wizards over those who, like Severus, bore Muggle blood in their veins. They also believed that their leader—called the Dark Lord by his loyal followers—was destined to rule the world. And in order to fulfill their master's grand vision, the Death Eaters were prepared to do anything.

Lie, cheat, steal, torture, even kill—whatever was necessary to satisfy the needs of their Dark Master. Power-hungry and conscienceless, selfish and eager to dominate those who were helpless, such were the followers of Lord Voldemort.

All except one, that is.

Severus alone did not bear the fanatical drive of the other Death Eaters. He had joined the group as a teenager, out of an unfulfilled adolescent need to belong somewhere, to ease the ever-present loneliness in his heart from watching his former childhood friend, the vivacious Lily Evans, whom he'd loved from afar, marry Snape's nemesis—the arrogant obnoxious prat, James Potter.

Not that Severus was surprised Lily had chosen James over himself. James was everything Severus was not—popular, handsome, charming, rich and possessed of a carefree spirit and sense of adventure that would appeal to any girl in the country.

In contrast, Severus was a loner, shy and lacking in social amenities, a brilliant scholar and a strong magician, but not even his mother would have called him handsome. He was pale and lanky, with a thin face dominated by a rather hooked nose, dark eyes that saw everything, and long hair that persisted in falling in his eyes.

He hated sports, especially Quidditch, regarding it as the pastime of strutting boys with more muscles than brains. The true power of a wizard lay in his ability to use his mind, not flying on a broomstick over a field chasing a stupid winged globe.

James Potter, everyone's favorite troublemaker, the golden boy of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Snape thought with a sneer.

No, he could not blame Lily for choosing James, especially since Severus lacked the nerve to admit he was attracted to her, even to himself. No sense in humiliating himself by wishing for something he could never have. Lily deserved better than Severus Snape, social outcast, who had nothing to offer her besides his wits and his magic and a house that had all the charm of a broom cupboard and was nearly the size of one too.

He had been a fool to even entertain thoughts of himself and Lily, such was the stuff of fairy tales. Severus had outgrown fairy tales at age seven. True love and happy endings did not exist—he'd learned the harsh truth of that during his childhood, the first time he saw his father slap his mother into a wall.

And yet, even knowing that bitter lesson, still his heart sought, time and again, love and acceptance. As a child, he had sought desperately to gain Tobias Snape's love and approval, only to be ignored or labeled a freak by his Muggle father, who feared his son's and wife's magical abilities.

Rejected by his father, he had in turn sought solace among his peers, only to discover that they too regarded him as different. Too smart and awkward, he did not make friends easily, his natural reticence was read as "getting above himself". His sudden darting glances were often taken as sly and furtive, they were a defense mechanism he'd developed in childhood, when meeting the eyes of his father would bring down the older man's wrath. He quickly became the target of bullies—among them James and his friends—Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin.

Bullies like his father, who delighted in tormenting and humiliating him, day after day, until he resorted to studying Dark magic out of self-defense.

Some of the minor hexes and jinxes he'd learned before he'd attended school, shown by his mother as a means of protecting himself from his abusive father. But others he picked up by studying restricted texts in secret and some he invented out of sheer frustration.

None of these magics were truly evil, they were designed to hurt and humiliate, to get some of his own back, but those that did real harm he studied but never cast.

What they did do was draw attention to him. The attention of Lucius Malfoy and his gang of rebels—malcontents looking for just such a mark to corrupt. Powerful and feared, their invitation was impossible for the impressionable lonely boy to refuse.

Thus Severus Snape became a Death Eater by default.

_My first mistake_, he thought bitterly as he climbed up the rocky trail to his hidden refuge. _Though not, unfortunately, my last._

His second mistake was agreeing to spy on Dumbledore and the other members of the Ministry of Magic, who were old foes of the Dark Lord.

It was then he had overheard Sybill Trelawny predict that one day there would come a "Chosen One" who would bring down the Dark Lord, born as the seventh month died.

Not understanding the full impact of the seer's words, Severus had reported the information faithfully to his dark master, or rather he spoke of it to his old schoolmate, Lucius Malfoy, who relayed them to Voldemort.

Little did Snape realize that the prophecy was not complete, there was more to it, but he'd been interrupted before he caught the whole thing. But even that half was more than enough to doom James, Lily, and their baby son, Harry.

Severus had resigned himself to forgiving James for his cruel pranks, though he never forgot, because James had saved his life, preventing the young Snape from being bitten by Remus Lupin in werewolf form and killed. That one act created a life debt between them, a debt that Severus was honor bound to repay one day.

Instead, all unwitting, he betrayed the Potters, leading Voldemort to believe the "Chosen One" of the prophecy was Harry. Harry Potter, who would someday rise to challenge the Dark Lord, must not be permitted to live.

Voldemort sent his minions out to find the Potters, who were betrayed finally by Peter Pettigrew, their Secret Keeper, and who died trying to save their son, foully murdered by Voldemort himself.

That had been Severus' last and greatest mistake, and it had cost him the lives of two innocent people, one of whom he was indebted to and the other whom he'd once loved.

Sickened and horrified by what he had done and become, Snape abandoned the Death Eaters, turning traitor to them forever. He had admitted all to Albus Dumbledore one early spring evening in the Headmaster's office. The elder wizard had then offered the remorseful Severus a choice.

"You cannot undo what you have done, Severus, but you can help our cause in other ways. You are in a unique position to gather information from Voldemort's inner circle, information that is vital to our cause. We need someone to be our eyes and ears in the enemy camp, someone they will never suspect, someone strong enough to resist Voldemort's mind probes, someone known and trusted by them."

"Me."

"Yes. You alone have a chance of succeeding. A slim chance, perhaps, but better than none," Dumbledore looked at the younger man questioningly, his eyes filled with pity and compassion. "It'll be dangerous, though I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that."

"So's breathing, Headmaster," rasped Severus, his mouth twisting into a bitter smile.

"I will not order you to do this, Severus. Not even I have the right to demand this sacrifice of you, for I refuse to force a man to his death."

"You won't have to, sir. I'll do it, no matter what it costs."

"Are you sure, Severus? Once you called some of them friends . . ."

"They were never my friends!" Snape spat, his eyes blazing with leashed fury. "They used me, that's all. I hate them, more now than I ever did before. They turned me into an oathbreaker, made me kill poor Lily . . ." he gulped sharply, tears blurring his eyes, though he resolutely blinked them aside.

"I was never really one of them," he continued with a slight hitch in his tone. "I will swear to any oath you wish, Dumbledore, that I will do all in my power to see the Dark-—Voldemort—" Snape corrected himself swiftly. "—and his followers destroyed. For what they have done, there can be no forgiveness. I will become your spy, sir, the shadow in the corner, unseen yet seeing all. Perhaps this way . . .I can redeem myself for the part I played in Lily and James' death."

Dumbledore nodded slowly, a pleased gleam coming into his eye. "Perhaps. Would you swear an Unbreakable Vow with me then?"

"Yes," Snape said quickly. "Whatever you require, sir."

Dumbledore sighed. "It is not I who require it, Severus, but my colleagues. I trust your word, but they will require something more . . . tangible, I fear."

An Unbreakable Vow was the most binding magical agreement in the wizarding world—if you broke it, it cost your life.

"I understand. Were I in their place, I'd not trust me, either. Not after what I've done." He sniffled sharply, remorse stabbing through him, twisting in his guts like a hot knife. "Poor Lily. She looked so happy the last time I saw her . . .at our class reunion . . .Motherhood becomes me, don't you think, she asked me . . . she had just found out, you see . . ."

He shivered suddenly, though the day was warm. "I never meant to hurt her, sir. Never! Even James, that utter idiot, didn't deserve to die like that. Damn that bloody prophecy! If only I had known . . ."

He gazed up at Dumbledore, his eyes black pits of despair, as if begging for absolution.

Dumbledore patted his arm. "You made a mistake, Severus. A terrible mistake, but not one that is unforgivable. I can see that your remorse is genuine. If you take the Unbreakable Vow with me, I will convince the Ministry to drop the charges against you. Furthermore, in recognition of the extreme danger of your position, I will give you a post at my school as a teacher and Head of Slytherin House."

Severus' jaw dropped.

"Why would you do that, sir?"

"Because I think you deserve it. It is the least I can do for you."

"The _least_ you can do . . .? Headmaster, I don't understand you. I told the Dark Lord of the prophecy, I pointed the finger at the Potters . . .betrayed them to their worst enemy . . .and you're worried about compensating _me_?" Snape laughed harshly in disbelief. "Were I in your place, sir, I'd be looking for the nearest tree to hang me."

"I know," the other said sadly. "Poor Severus. You've known precious little compassion in your life. Or forgiveness. I think it's time you learned about them. I will give you the position of Potions Master, if I recall correctly, that was one of your best subjects at school, wasn't it?"

"Yes . . .but I'd make a terrible teacher, Professor. I'm too impatient, too quick to criticize, I have an awful temper . . ." Severus began. Dumbledore held up a hand. Snape trailed off awkwardly, though he continued listing objections in his mind. _I'm a perfectionist, I don't really like kids . . ._

"You'll learn, Severus. You have a great talent as a Potions Master, it'd be a shame not to share your knowledge with others. The children would benefit greatly from your instruction."

Snape snorted. "Somehow I doubt it, but if you really want me to teach, I'll do it. It'll be a good cover anyway. I just hope we both don't regret it."

"Oh, I don't think I will. I have faith in you."

"Even without the Unbreakable Vow, sir?" Severus asked, his tone softly mocking.

Dumbledore nodded calmly. "I don't need the Unbreakable Vow to know that you're an honorable man, Severus Snape. If you weren't you wouldn't be here now, overflowing with guilt and the need to atone for your sins. You'd be back there, with the others, plotting to find him, or at the very least, resurrect his dream of destruction."

"How do you know that I'm not planning to return to the Death Eaters and tell them everything you said tonight?" Snape demanded angrily. _No one can be __**that**__ naïve!_ "How in hell can you trust me, sir?"

"Because Lily Potter did. And she was one of the best judges of character I ever knew."

"How can you say that? She trusted me and I _caused her death_!" Snape pointed out ruthlessly.

"Did you? If you had known that the prophecy had targeted Lily's son, would you have told Voldemort of it?"

"No!" Snape howled. "They were my friends . . .at least Lily was, once . . .I owed James too . . .I loved her, you know . . .she never knew, no one did, but I loved her . . ."

Overcome with grief and guilt, hurting past bearing, Severus buried his face in his hands and began to sob.

The older wizard said nothing, simply let him cry. He felt keenly the younger man's pain and wished there was something he could do to assuage it, but he knew no mere words would bring comfort to Snape's tortured soul. _Poor lost child, I cannot give you what you want most. I can forgive you your mistakes, Severus, but the one thing I cannot do is teach you to forgive yourself. That, I', afraid, you must learn on your own. To forgive yourself . . .and to love yourself. A hard task, far harder than the one you have agreed to, and not one you can learn by yourself. I can only hope and pray you will meet one who can help you, who you can trust . . .for only then will you be whole._

At last the younger man's weeping ceased and he sat up and wiped his eyes with a handkerchief Dumbledore handed him. He did not look the Headmaster in the eyes for a moment.

Severus was appalled at his loss of control. He hadn't cried like that since . . .he couldn't _ever_ remember crying that way, not even as a boy after one of his father's beatings. He'd learned early on not to give in to tears, they only made his father angrier.

_Only cowards cry, boy!_ He could hear his father growl in his head. _Are you a coward, boy?_

_No, Father, I'm not. And I'll never become one, _he answered defiantly_._

Disgusted at himself, he shook his head sharply, sending the awful memories back to the shadows where they belonged. He was no longer a child, he reminded himself sternly, struggling to please a father who would never be satisfied, searching for a reason to love a man who was a tyrant.

Tobias Snape had died three years ago and Severus was free of his looming presence forever. Or so he had thought. But there remained times when he felt his father's shadow still hovered, grim and disapproving, looking for an excuse to punish his worthless son.

_Get out of my head and leave me be!_ He snarled at the phantom memory. _I put up with you my whole life, I'll be damned if I'm going to let you haunt me after you're dead too!_

The specter retreated, and Severus slammed the door firmly behind it, caging it in the recesses of his mind.

_Lily Potter was one of the best people I ever knew, and if I want to cry for her I will, so there!_ He shouted defiantly at the closed door. The specter remained silent and Severus drew in a breath, let it out slowly, and wiped his face.

Composed once more, he lifted his head and met Dumbledore's gaze. "I apologize for that outburst, sir. It won't happen again."

"It's all right, Severus. You need to grieve . . ." Dumbledore began.

"That's done now," Snape cut him off, one hand slashing down abruptly. "If you're ready, I'll take the Unbreakable Vow right now."

"Are you sure you're all right? The Vow can wait a bit. You look exhausted, like you haven't slept in days."

"What does that matter? I've gotten by on less sleep before. I'm ready whenever you are."

"Very well. If you're sure?"

"Absolutely. No time like the present, Professor."

Dumbledore drew his wand, clasping Severus' hand firmly in his other one. He laid his wand across both of their clasped hands.

Then Severus pledged his loyalty and his life to Dumbledore and his cause, promising to do all in his power to defeat Voldemort and any who allied themselves with him, for as long he lived.

Strangely, after the spell had been cast, binding him to fight Voldemort unto eternity, Severus felt better than he had in a long time. He felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his soul. This was right, this was what he was meant to do. For the first time in years he felt . . .at peace.

Despite the danger of his mission or the fact that he'd just doublecrossed the most evil wizard in the world, Severus was relaxed and calm.

The peaceful feeling last a total of about five minutes, until Dumbledore brought up his acceptance as Potions Master at Hogwarts.

Then it fled wailing in terror.

"Do I have to accept the position immediately?" he queried the Headmaster. "I need some time to prepare myself, plan out a curriculum, that sort of thing."

Dumbledore favored him with another of his famous smiles. "Of course. Take all the time you need, Severus. Why don't you take a little vacation? Say, for six months? We still have this term to finish and the summer holidays. And I need to inform Professor Slughorn that he can finally retire. Then you can start fresh at the beginning of the year. Will that suit you, Severus?"

"Yes. Thank you. That should be more than enough time, sir."

"Excellent. I'm really looking forward to this, you know. I think this could be the beginning of a wonderful new career for you."

That conversation had taken place two days ago, Severus mused as he hiked up the last of the trail that led to the peaceful glade. He wore standard hiking clothes that might be seen on any young man spending a day climbing up a bunch of boulders or navigating a set of switchback trails—sturdy brown hiking boots, a pair of black jeans, scuffed and worn from many washings though exceedingly comfortable, an ivory cable knit sweater and an all-purpose blue jacket.

His wand was tucked in a pocket inside his jacket and his untamable hair was pulled back in a tail. He also had a mini rucksack slung carelessly over one shoulder. It contained two bottles of Nymphadora's Pure Spring Water—Guaranteed To Give You Some Spring in Your Step! Also inside were three honey bars—his own concoction of high energy bars made with oats, sunflower seeds, cranberries, and chocolate chips melded together with sweet clover honey. They were perfect for a snack and they kept forever, or nearly so, thanks to the preserving spell he'd put on them.

It was in his mind to have a seat on one of the flat-topped rocks that clustered near the cliffside. They'd been warmed by the sun and would be an ideal place to relax, eat a snack, drink some water, and forget, at least for a time, the obligations he'd agreed to.

Only to find that his retreat was already occupied, and not by an animal.

A young woman had seated herself upon his favorite rock, arms clasped about her knees. She was wearing blue denims, a mint green hooded sweatshirt, and white sneakers. Her hair was a deep auburn, fiery highlights glinting in the rising sun, it curled slightly about her face, which had high cheekbones and a sharp chin. Her eyes, which were gazing off into the distance, were a brilliant turquoise blue.

He blinked and rubbed a hand across his eyes, wondering if he were hallucinating. But no, even in his wildest dreams, he could never imagine a girl like her, especially here, of all places.

He watched her a moment more, uncertain whether to be annoyed that she'd invaded his private spot, or to appreciate the unexpected pleasure of having a pretty woman appear out of thin air.

He wondered with a flash of alarm if she were a Muggle or a witch, then his eyes narrowed and he extended his magical senses outward, trying to detect any hint of power about her.

What he found nearly knocked him right over. This woman, whoever she was, had more raw power than he'd ever known in any wizard save perhaps Dumbledore and Voldemort. Power that was on a par with his own.

Who _was_ she? For he did not know her, and if she had grown up anywhere on the British Isles, she would have attended Hogwarts in the same years he had.

Curiosity raging, he took two steps forward, emerging from the screen of gorse that hid the entrance to the glen from all but the most observant eyes. "Excuse me, miss, but what are you doing here?"

"What? Oh!" she sat up, startled by his appearance. "I didn't know this was such a popular place. I thought I'd found a good spot to, um, get away and think."

"You did. That's why _I'm_ here as a matter of fact."

She flushed slightly, perhaps sensing his annoyance, and said apologetically, "I'm sorry if I intruded. I'll leave if you want." She began to get to her feet.

"No!" he blurted, not knowing quite why he did so. "I mean, you can stay, I don't mind. It's not like I own the place or anything."

"True, but you were coming here to be alone and now I've gone and spoiled it."

He shook his head firmly. "No, it's all right. I was coming here to relax for a bit, but it really doesn't matter that you're here."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." He came a few more steps into the clearing, a tentative smile on his face. "Sorry, I'm forgetting my manners. My name is Severus Snape, formerly of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You're not from around here, are you?"

"No, I'm an American, as you've probably guessed from my accent," she said, grinning back at him. "My name is Amelia Amarotti, I work in New York for the U. S. Magical Association, but I was born and raised in New Jersey." She rose and shook his hand.

He was surprised to note that she was so small, she barely came up to his chin.

"Welcome to Scotland, Amelia," he said lamely, wishing he didn't sound so much like a tour guide.

"Thanks. So far I'm enjoying the view immensely. This is a beautiful country, it reminds of me the Appalachians in West Virginia back home. Are you from here originally?"

"Umm . . .no, actually I'm originally from London, a place called Spinner's End." He seated himself on another rock. He was surprised at how comfortable he felt speaking to her. Normally, his conversations with strange girls started with hello and ended in ten minutes with goodbye. He struggled for a brief minute for something else to say. "Will you be staying here long, Amelia?"

"Oh, I'll be here a couple of months, I think. I'm on sabbatical, you see. After this last case I was really beat, so my boss told me to take a vacation. He was right, much as I hate to say it, I really did need a chance to get away from it all."

"Case? What do you do? You sound like you're a detective."

"Don't I wish. No, I'm what's called a Dark Hunter. I track down and apprehend dark wizards. Rather like a Muggle police officer."

Severus gaped at her. "_You_ hunt down dark wizards? Aren't you . . .umm, a little young for that?" he stammered, then went on quickly, afraid he'd offended her, "I mean, over here the Ministry only approves witches to an Auror position if they're twenty-five and have passed all the entrance exams."

She was not offended by his impertinent question. "In the States, we have to pass a bunch of tests too, but we're picked based on talent and inclination, not age. Once you graduate the Academy, you work with an older, more experienced wizard for a year until you've earned full Hunter status. In case you were wondering, this is my first year working solo, I'll be twenty-two in May."

"I've always wondered, what do you do with your dark wizards when you catch them?" he inquired. "We send ours to prison for life after a quick trial, is it the same in America?"

"Pretty much. Most of our criminals go to a maximum security detainment center called the Inferno. You know, after Dante's book on hell?" Severus nodded, recognizing the reference immediately. "Those that don't prefer to go down fighting, that is." She shook her head wearily. "You'd be surprised how many criminals would rather die than go to jail. I guess the loss of freedom and magic is too much for them to handle, it's not like we torture them or anything. We're authorized to capture first, but if necessary we can use deadly force."

"You mean, you can use Unforgivable Curses?"

"A Death Spell, you mean? No. That's necromancy. But there are other spells that can kill. Inferio—Fireball—for one. But only if we have no other choice are we allowed to use battle magic. If we do use it, we have to face a board of inquiry afterwards, to determine if we were justified. It's not _really_ like the Wild West, where you go in with six-shooters—wands, in our case—blazing."

"How many dark wizards have you brought in?"

"Five, including my last assignment. Four of them are permanent residents of Inferno. The last one chose death and I can't say I'm sorry. I'd been tracking him for months, following the trail of bodies he left." Her mouth tightened to a thin line. "He liked to target young women and children, wizards and non-wizards. He called himself the Black Widow. He was big on entrapment and S&M spells, he liked to play with his victims before he killed them. He was a clever SOB too, knew concealment and untraceable magics like the back of his hand. Even our magehounds couldn't track him."

"What's a magehound?"

"A special breed of dog that can smell magic. We train ours to sniff out contraband magic items and dark auras. They look like big golden foxhounds, very smart, very determined, they don't quit until the quarry's brought in. Unless they can't find the scent to begin with. Don't you have them over here?"

"Not that I know of. This is the first time I've ever heard of them. Why?"

"Because the first magehounds originated here, they were brought to America along with their wizard masters during the settling of Jamestown. Mystic Gaze Kennels is still in operation there, as a matter of fact. Some of our top dogs were bred from that line. Kind of strange, that you don't have any here anymore, don't you think?"

Severus looked thoughtful, then said, "Perhaps they grew too inbred and died out or something. We have stories of the fell hounds that run with the Wild Hunt and fairy cats, but magic-sniffing dogs, no."

"Too bad. Working with a magehound is almost as good as working with a human partner. Better, sometimes, because the dog doesn't complain, he just does his job."

"Someday I would like to see one," he said eagerly. He loved studying new species of magical animals. Then he continued with his original thread of conversation—the dark wizard. "But if you couldn't track him by magic, how did you find him at all?"

"I used a special ability of mine. Slade might have been able to hide his trail magically, but the one thing he couldn't hide were his emotions. I'm an empath, and all I had to do was focus on his emotional signature—everyone's is unique—and I could find him no matter what he did." She shivered suddenly.

"Are you cold?" he asked, starting to offer his jacket.

"I'm fine, thanks," she waved his offer off with a hand. "Got a couple of bad memories floating around that I need to deal with."

"Oh. I'm sorry, you came here to forget and here I am dragging it all up again."

"It's okay. Sometimes talking about it helps. Let's me put in perspective, so to speak. My Academy instructor used to say that memories only hurt if you let them, otherwise they were just a reflection of the past."

"Easy to say, hard to do."

"Tell me about it," she laughed humorlessly. "If I knew how to follow that piece of advice, I wouldn't be here right now."

_Neither would I,_ Severus thought, but did not say. "You must be a very powerful witch to have caught someone that, uh, depraved."

"I can hold my own. In the end it came down to timing more than power. He got careless and I took him by surprise. I did what I had to, same as any other Dark Hunter." She shrugged. "Most people think being a Dark Hunter is so glamorous, but it's not. It's a hard, thankless, dirty job, there's no glory and no rewards except a well done from your captain and the satisfaction that you've nailed a bad guy. But I'm not a Hunter to be famous. I'm one because that's what I do best."

She said that last simply, stating a fact, not bragging. He believed her, despite her age and pixyish looks, he sensed that Amelia Amarotti was no pushover. There was a core of steel in her, sharp and bright. She would make a formidable opponent, and he prayed she couldn't sense that he had once flirted with darkness, though he hadn't used dark magic for over three months now.

One thing he knew for certain—he sure as blazes didn't want her hunting him down. If the aura of competence she radiated was anything to go by, she could take him in about ten minutes.

It was a pity he couldn't introduce her to his old schoolmate, Lucius Malfoy. He'd have enjoyed watching her stomp Malfoy's privileged butt in the dirt.

"But enough about me, you didn't come here to listen to me babble about my life, which isn't really that interesting, trust me. Are you—what was that term you used—an Auror, then?"

He shook his head, eyes glinting in amusement. "No, law enforcement's not my thing. I've just accepted a position at our school for young wizards."

"You're a teacher? What subject?"

"Potions. I've got a knack for it, though I'm not sure yet how I'm going to present the material to kids who are utterly clueless."

"Start with the basics and work up," Amelia advised. "And don't be afraid to discipline. If you're too nice, kids will take advantage of you quicker than you can blink. The best instructor I ever had at the Dark Hunter Academy was as tough as a dragon's hide. He never raised his voice. He didn't need to. He could kick your butt just by looking at you. He was fair, though. If you did your best, he knew it, and graded accordingly. He had a tongue as sharp as a razor, and he'd wear you out with it if you were a smartass, but he knew what he was doing when it came to catching crooks. You either loved him or hated him, but you couldn't help but respect him."

"Then you think intimidation as a tactic works well on students?"

"Well, not all of them. Some kids fall to pieces with that approach. You have to judge the individual student carefully, it's a tricky thing. But you need to have a clear set of rules and guidelines for them to follow, and consequences if they don't. Kids need boundaries, especially wizard kids," she said, then gave an embarrassed laugh. "Heavens, listen to me lecturing you! I sound like somebody's grandmother. You probably know all of this too, from taking educational prep courses, right?"

He flushed, wanting to say something witty, but he knew better than to lie to an empath. "Ummm . . .this is my first teaching post, so any advice you could give me is greatly appreciated."

"Take it one day at a time, Severus. That's my motto. Then sit back and reflect on what worked."

"You give good advice, Amelia. Better than half my instructors at Hogwarts. You're wise for one so young."

She laughed, an infectious sound that he couldn't help but respond to. "So _young_, am I? And just how old are _you_, Mr. Snape? You don't look much older than me, unless you've been drinking Youth Potion on the sly."

"Uh-oh, caught me out," he shot back, his eyes sparkling. "I only _look_ twenty-one, but I'm really forty-two."

"Uh-huh. And my grandmother's a kitsune." Amelia shook a finger at him. "You are possibly the worst liar I've ever met."

"Known many of them, have you?"

"In my line of work? Half the dark magicians I've apprehended could lie to your face so good you'd think black was white and night was day. Compared to them, you're a babe in the woods, Severus old man."

"And I'm sure it helps that you can read emotions too. You have a built-in lie detector," he surmised.

"Sometimes. When I'm questioning a suspect, it's damn useful. But other times. . . it can be a curse as well as a blessing. This last time, it allowed me to find that scumbag Kittrick Slade, but what I picked up from his mind . . . God, Severus, I think I'm going to have nightmares for the rest of my life. The things he did . . .the pleasure he got from torturing all those poor women and children . . .there was no way I could block it . . . If I could scrub out my mind, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

She closed her eyes, shivering uncontrollably.

Alarmed, Severus reached out and shook her shoulder. "Hey, Amelia. You all right?" He scowled, angry at himself. "Me and my big mouth. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

Amelia heard him from a distance, but she used his voice as a reference point to climb out of the pit of despair she'd fallen into.

_God, Amelia, you know better than to let an imprint ricochet on you like that!_ she scolded herself fiercely. _Slade's dead and gone down to the devil, he can't hurt you any more, so let it go._

She sucked in a breath, then let it out, shoving the dreadful emotions and their attendant images she'd absorbed in order to find Slade away.

_Let it go._

_That's better._

She repeated that mantra until she was calm again, her breathing normal, the trembling vanished.

She opened her eyes and looked up at the other wizard through her lashes. A red flush stained her cheekbones.

"Sorry. You must think I'm some kind of fruitcake now. I don't usually get flashbacks like that . . .but Slade, he really messed with my head. I thought I was over it, but I guess some things linger, no matter how hard you try and forget."

She bit her lip hard and blinked back tears. She refused to disgrace herself any further by crying in front of a complete stranger. One who was probably ruing the day he'd decided to come here, having to deal with a crazy woman, she thought derisively.

She slammed up shields, preventing her empathic senses from reading his reaction to the episode. Her emotions were always precarious after a flashback, and the last thing she needed was to pick up on someone else's emotions and add them to the ones seething in her head.

_Way to go, Amarotti. You've really done it now. He'll be so impressed, big tough Dark Hunter, professional cop, falling apart over a dead guy's memories._

She started to get to her feet, embarrassed beyond words, wanting nothing more than to crawl beneath a rock and hide herself away for a thousand years. "I think I'd better be going."

"No. Please, stay," he reached out and grabbed her wrist gently. "Don't leave. I understand. It's not your fault. Anybody would be a wreck after what you've been through. Most of us wouldn't be alive to tell of it, if he's anything like the dark wizards we've known here."

"That's kind of you to say, Severus, but there's no need to sugar-coat the truth," she said stiffly. "My boss might have called this a vacation, but I know the real reason he sent me here was because he didn't think I could take the pressure any more. I'm not fit to be a Dark Hunter, so it's goodbye Amelia, nice to have known you, but you screwed up good."

He understood all too well where she was coming from. "If he thinks that, he's the biggest idiot in the world," he found himself saying indignantly. "Listen to me, I'm not trying to sugar-coat anything, I swear. I barely know you, but even I can see that you're a dependable professional who does her job and doesn't whine about it later. And if your boss wants to toss you aside like a dishrag because you've got a problem, then _he_ needs to have _his_ head examined."

"You really mean that." Their eyes met and something unspoken passed between them.

"I do. And if I can say that after knowing you about twenty minutes, that ought to tell you something, Miss Amarotti."

"That you're crazy?"

"Maybe." His lips quirked in a slight smile. "Seriously though, it means that you're a dedicated professional who risked your life to catch a crook no one else could touch. If that isn't impressive, I don't know what is."

Amelia sniffed, then flashed him a tentative grin. "Thanks, Severus."

Severus shrugged, embarrassed. He couldn't ever recall speaking like this to a woman before, but he didn't regret what he'd said. He'd meant every word. "What are friends for?"

"You'll admit to being friends with a screw-up like me?"

"Join the club, why don't you? I'm one of its founding members. Believe me, Amelia, no one's made more mistakes than I have."

She snickered. "Well, we're a pair of fools then, aren't we?"

"Seems that way," Snape grinned.

**Author's Note: This story is AU, and does not really follow canon, save in some aspects. Therefore, Snape may or may not behave in an expected manner. During this first part, it is 1981, Severus is 21 years old. And this story was written BEFORE the last book or an official timeline or ANYTHING was known about Snape's background save for a few snippets about him and the Marauders and Lily. I invented a background for him and as for the timeline, it's my story and therefore I control time in it. I'm not changing it just to suit JKR's timeline. If you want canon, go read the HP books. If not, keep reading this.**


	2. Draco Familiaris

**Draco Familiaris**

Despite their rather shaky start, Severus found he enjoyed Amelia's company. So much, in fact, that he didn't want their conversation to end. But his stomach was telling him in no uncertain terms that if it didn't get fed it was going to stage a mutiny. It felt like days since he'd eaten toast and scrambled eggs before Apparating from the Three Broomsticks out here and then climbing the rest of the way up to the glen.

He pulled off his rucksack to grab out a honey bar, halting just in time to remember that it was rude eating in front of a lady (or anyone) without offering her some. "You hungry, Amelia? Because I'm starving."

"Same here. And I didn't even hike up here like you did."

"Oh, I didn't walk the whole way here, if that's what you're thinking," he admitted shyly. "I Apparated, than hiked the last five miles. But it's been quite awhile since breakfast." He found his package of honey bars and offered her one. "It's not Grimauld's Gourmet feast or anything, but it'll take the edge off."

"They look wonderful. Homemade, I'll bet."

"Uh, yes. My own recipe." He pulled out a Nymphadora's Spring Water. "Something to drink?"

"Thanks. You're a handy guy to have around, Potions Master," she said, taking the bottle of water.

For some reason that compliment pleased him immensely, probably because he wasn't used to receiving them from attractive females. "It's only honey bars and water."

"Manna from heaven, far as I'm concerned," she said, biting into her snack with relish. "Mmm . . .these are fantastic. You can cook for me anytime, Severus."

He bit back a laugh. "Don't say that too soon, Amelia. That's all I know how to make, unless you count chicken noodle soup."

"Aw, come on, I never knew a Potions Master who wasn't a closet chef with ten secret ingredients to make some fabulous recipes."

"Maybe American Potion Masters are like that, but not me. Oh, I could take a bunch of ingredients and throw them together, but the results would put you in the hospital."

"You really can't cook?" she repeated, astonished.

"No."

"Didn't your mother teach you how to make breakfast?"

"Toast and cereal. We ate out a lot," he laughed. "Can _you_ cook, Miss Amarotti?"

"Ever known an Italian who couldn't?" she demanded, pretending to be insulted. "My grandmother taught me how to make meatballs as well as mend pots with spells when I was five. And none of that cheating with quick-cook spells, either. _That_ was a cardinal sin. Magic's fine for cleaning up, she used to say, but _never_ for cooking—that you did the old-fashioned way. I make a pretty mean lasagna, thanks to her."

"Oh? Someday, I'll see if that's true, _signorina_."

"That a challenge?" she asked, her little chin thrust out. "All right, Professor, you're on. Dinner's on me tomorrow night. My place, 110 Gryphon Way, 6 o'clock sharp."

"Hey, I was kidding," he held up his hands. "You don't need to prove anything to me."

"Wrong, buster. You aren't getting away that easy. I heard the skeptical note in your voice."

"You imagined it."

"Tsk. Tsk. Never lie to an empath, Sev old boy, you'll lose every time."

"Fine, I'll up the ante, see if you're as good as you claim. Dinner _and_ dessert too."

"Done, and if you lose, I get to give you cooking lessons. It's a crime for a Potions Master to not know how to boil water."

"Now wait a minute. I'm not _that_ dumb," he argued. "I can make soup."

"From scratch? Or do you just pop open a can of Ready-Spell?"

He scowled at her. "What the bloody hell's wrong with Ready-Spell?"

"You'll know the answer once you taste Nonna Amarotti's chicken orzo. Still game?"

"You bet."

"For now, I can supplement our snack a bit." She rolled up her sleeves and clapped her hands twice.

A red and white checkered cloth appeared on the grass. A snap of her fingers had a jug of sweet iced tea and a plate of ham and Swiss sandwiches pop into view, along with two cups and napkins. "Best I could do on short notice."

He was staring at her in amazement. "You don't use a wand to conjure?"

"Nope. American Magical Association prefers gestures to wands, mostly. Claims that wizards who rely too much on magical apparatus get sloppy with casting. Also, you can disarm a wizard with a wand, but the only way to disarm one of us is to break all our fingers."

"I could put a Petrificus Totalus hex on you or a Stunning hex and you'd not be able to wriggle your finger," he pointed out.

"You could try, but I'd counter them with a twitch," Amelia argued, then broke off and sighed. "Look, let's not get into the whole gesture vs. wand debate. That argument's been going on since 1776. I do magic one way and you do it another. Whatever works, right?"

"Right. Results are what matter, not method. Except in potions," he added quickly.

Amelia nodded, then gestured for him to sit down on the picnic blanket.

He hopped off the rock and started to walk towards the blanket, when an enormous shadow fell over them.

Snape froze.

_What the bloody hell is **that**?_ his mind screamed in panic.

"What's the big idea, Amelia baby?" a bass voice boomed from above them, setting the rocks trembling. "You decided to eat lunch without me?"

_Lunch?_ Severus gulped and looked up . . .to see his worst nightmare hovering over him.

There was a gleaming bronze-scaled dragon above the glen, its wings nearly blocking out the sun. Without conscious thought, Snape whipped out his wand and pointed it at the great beast.

"No, Severus!" Amelia yelled, springing forward. "Put your wand down! This isn't one of your crazy English dragons, this is my friend Fireflash. He's a bronze dragon, a sentient species."

Snape lowered his wand a fraction.

"You tell him, honey," the dragon snorted. "_Draco familiaris imperialis_. Native to North America, like the quetzalcoatl is to South America. We're the only intelligent dragon species left in the world." His azure eyes narrowed. "Quit pointing that wand at me, wizard, or else we're gonna go a few rounds."

"Sorry," Severus tucked his wand back in his jacket. No way he was going to antagonize something the size of an airplane.

"That's better. I'm much friendlier if you're not waving a wand in my face, threatening to curse me." The big dragon flew higher, gaining altitude. Then he dipped his wings and glided in on an updraft.

For all of his size, he landed lightly, touching down on three talons, perfectly balanced.

"Humph. How's that for a textbook three-point landing, Amelia sweetie?"

"Show off," the American mage reproved, then she flashed the huge lizard a smile that would have melted stone. "Severus Snape, meet Fireflash, my sometimes partner, and my ride over here."

Fireflash lowered his head, his long neck curved into an S-shape. "That's me—Dragon Express." He extended a long-fingered forefoot, the four-foot talons retracted, like a cat's. "Pleased to meet you, Severus. Sorry I scared you. I forgot you Brits aren't used to talking dragons that can eat you."

He smiled toothily at the young wizard, displaying teeth the size of long knives.

Snape, who had started to shake the bronze's foot, blanched and stepped back.

"Only kidding," the bronze chortled. "I don't like human flesh. It _doesn't_ taste like chicken."

Amelia rolled her eyes. "Dragon humor. You're a laugh a minute, Fireflash. Now behave."

"Yes, ma'am," Fireflash said, pretending to look contrite. "Got no sense of humor, that one," he muttered out of the side of his mouth.

Severus grinned shakily and touched the dragon's scaled foot gently. "Nice to meet you too, Fireflash."

"Pleasure." Then the dragon exhaled and blew a misty cloud over Severus. Fireflash's breath smelled oddly minty, not at all what he'd expected dragon breath to smell like. A sudden inspiration struck him.

"You're a vegetarian, aren't you?"

The dragon gave him a sheepish look. "Aw, figured it out, did you? You're a quick one, kid. Actually, I do eat fish, eggs, and the occasional ostrich when I can get one. But otherwise I eat roots, nuts, and sea kelp. The sea kelp are what gives my scales their natural coppery luster."

He tilted his head slightly, so the sun struck his scales, making them blaze a brilliant golden red with bluish highlights.

"Look at him, preening and primping, just like a sixteen-year-old going to the prom," Amelia teased. "Thinks he's Casanova."

"I _am_ Casanova. All the females love me," Fireflash boasted.

"Uh-huh. Keep dreaming, big guy." She reached out to pat him affectionately on the ankle.

Fireflash was larger than most of the dragons Snape had studied or read about. But his body was not bulky, like the Swedish Short Snout, nor spiky like a Hungarian Horntail. The bronze was long and sleek, reminding one of a lazy dozing cougar. His tail was wrapped neatly about his hind feet and it bore a reddish plume on its tip. Small ridges stood up along his back and neck, these acted like solar sails, drawing down sunlight, for bronze dragons drew some nutrients from solar energy and thus spent a large part of their day basking on some mountain top.

Azure eyes, slanted like a cat's, peered intelligently out of a broad forehead that tapered down to a narrow muzzle. The dragon's ears were two upright points, enhancing the resemblance to a feline. Along the side of the face were two frills, these could reflect sunlight at an enemy or cool the dragon if he were hot.

Fireflash's wings, similar to a bat's, were colored a light gold mixed with iridescent blue and green, creating beautiful swirled patterns across the leathery membranes.

He was, as he had said, a most awe-inspiring and beautiful creature. Severus felt as if he were in the presence of a legend, which in fact he was, for all the records at Hogwarts said bronze dragons no longer existed.

"Come on, Sev, sit down and eat. He's already got an ego the size of the United States, keep staring at him like that and it'll double."

Flushing, Severus sank down on the picnic blanket, accepting a cup of iced tea and a sandwich with a thank you from Amelia.

For ten minutes all was silent as they ate. Fireflash tucked his forefeet beneath him and drowsed, his eyes slitting to a thin blue line on his face.

Snape finished the last bite of his sandwich and took a large gulp of tea, feeling pleasantly full. "That was very good. Better than the stuff they serve at the Three Broomsticks."

"Of course it is. That's because my food's not conjured. Vito's Italian Market can beat any spelled sandwich you can name ten to one."

"You're right," he agreed reluctantly. _I think I'm going to be sorry I ever made that bet,_ he thought ruefully. Then he shifted his attention to the recumbent dragon, who had thin streamers of smoke trickling from his nostrils. "He asleep?"

Amelia glanced in Fireflash's direction. "Napping. Bronzes take cat naps, mostly. Especially when they're far from their home territory or den. The only time they sleep deeply is if they're utterly certain they're safe and hidden from enemies."

"What on earth could be a threat to a dragon?" Severus wondered. "He could swallow me whole in two seconds and I wouldn't amount to a bite. So who's left to fear?"

"It's an old habit, made back when his kind were hunted without mercy by every would-be hero and dragonslayer hoping to make a name for himself," she explained. "Fireflash says that once bronze dragons lived all over the world, not just the U. S. They were well respected by the wizarding community. People consulted them on various subjects, because they were known for their wisdom and magical abilities. Occasionally, a bronze even took an apprentice wizard and trained him or her. But all of that was before dragonslaying became vogue and every king in Europe bought into the propaganda the Dragonslayer Guild spouted—that all dragons were cruel evil monsters that ate babies for breakfast, stole princesses and kept them prisoner, and had mounds of treasure which they guarded selfishly."

She sighed and poured herself another cup of tea. "I think it was the gold that made people turn against the dragons so quickly. Greed is a great motivator. The sad thing is that the bronze dragons trusted the wizards to stand by them, and we didn't. Instead we joined right in. Overnight, everybody and his brother wanted a dragonscale shirt or a dragon claw necklace, and suddenly whole product lines were developed that used dragon's blood as a major ingredient.

"There was a potion they made during the Middle Ages that's been banned in America since Columbus discovered us, called Dragon's Breath."

"I've heard of it. It's a restricted item, very difficult to brew, you can't make it without express permission from the Ministry of Magic."

"Do you know the main ingredient?"

"A dragon's heart."

"Yeah. But not just _any_ dragon's heart. Specifically, a _bronze_ dragon's heart." Amelia growled. "They were our friends and allies, the teachers of our children, and how did we repay them? In blood and ashes.

"Thousands of bronze dragons were hunted down and slaughtered to make that vile potion, a potion that was used to give a wizard the ability to breathe fire for a short time.

"It makes me sick to even think about it. Fireflash's grandmother lived during those times and she still remembers the atrocities that were committed. They were betrayed by the wizards they'd helped, who told the dragonslayers where the bronzes laired, and their habits, and how to kill them with dragonbane laced weapons or poisoned meat."

"But surely they fought back?"

"Sure they did, but we outnumbered them fifty to one, and they couldn't reproduce fast enough to replenish their numbers. D'you know how long a dragon lives?"

"Five hundred to a thousand years, I think."

"Yeah, a thousand's the average lifespan of a bronze. And a dragonet's not an adult till he's a century or more old. So when those dragonslaying butchers and their wizard allies killed a bronze dragon, they destroyed centuries of knowledge as well as an intelligent feeling creature. What a damn waste!"

"But not everybody thought it was okay to hunt bronze dragons," Severus pointed out.

"Yeah, but their defenders were few and far between. The best they could do was damage control. That was when the bronzes decided the best solution to the Dragonslaying Guild was to leave Europe and Asia and return to their original home in the United States.

"The New World was vast and mainly wilderness and the Indians who lived there didn't bother the dragons. Some tribes even worshipped them. So the bronzes settled down and raised families again, but they made damn sure they kept the location of their lairs a secret. To this day, no bronze will ever reveal the true location of his lair to any wizard, not even one they trust.

"I've known Fireflash there for over four years and he's saved my life numerous times, but even so he'd never tell me where he lairs. And it's been over five centuries since the Dragon Exodus and the American wizards have lived in peace with them since the founding of Plymouth."

"Dragons have long memories, I guess."

"Can you blame them?"

"No. It's a good thing for us that they don't hold a grudge, else we'd all be crispy critters."

Fireflash snorted loudly, amused. "Now _that_'s what I call a sensible fellow. Better hang on to this one, Amarotti, he's better than the last guy you dated."

Severus shot a sidelong glance at Amelia, who was bright red, though whether with embarrassment or anger, he couldn't tell.

"Flash, when I want an opinion on my love life, I'll ask you. Until then, kindly shut your trap."

"Hmmm . . ." the dragon said, tapping a nail thoughtfully under his chin. "She never gets this riled unless I'm dead on target with my observations. Must be serious." He cast a searching eye at the two young wizards, who were looking everywhere but at each other. "Love at first sight, maybe."

"Shut up, Flash! Mind your own business, wonder wyrm."

"You _are_ my business," the dragon said slyly. "I'm your partner."

"Exactly. My partner, not my mother. Now quit poking your scaly nose where it doesn't belong," she said exasperatedly. "See what I have to put up with? He's worse than a reporter from _The Magical Times_."

"Hey, if the shoe fits . . ." the dragon began, smirking.

"Swear to Christ, if you don't button it, I'm gonna magic your tongue into a knot," the Dark Hunter threatened, glaring furiously at the big beast.

Fireflash snickered. "Got to watch that Italian temper of hers, kid. It makes her unpredictable."

"I've noticed," Severus remarked, unable to resist.

"Does she scare you then?"

"No. I've got a nasty temper myself sometimes."

"Oh?" the dragon's ears perked up at that. "A match made in heaven. Assuming you don't kill each other during your first argument, that is."

"I'm far more likely to kill you first, Flash. Just on principle, because you annoy me to no end," Amelia put in tartly.

"I've heard _that_ one before. Her bark's worse than her bite," he whispered to Snape.

Amelia shot the loquacious wyrm a look that could have cut glass.

Fireflash merely smiled, a toothy grin that was only mildly scary. "Okay, now simmer down, Amarotti. But one day you're going to see that I was right. As usual." He stretched, arching his back. "Think I'll take another nap. Wake me if it gets interesting."

Then he curled into a ball, tucked his head beneath a wing, and fell asleep, snoring rhythmically.

Severus stared at the sleeping leviathan for a moment, then said softly, "Is he like this all the time?"

"No. Sometimes he's worse. He's the reason I don't date much. He's frightened away every boyfriend I've ever had. I think he does it on purpose."

"I'm not afraid of dragons."

She eyed him speculatively. "That's a first. He can be pretty intimidating when he wants to be, and I'm not just talking about claws and fangs. If he doesn't like you, he can be wickedly insulting."

"I believe you. I just don't think you're the kind of woman who needs a dragon defending her. Seems to me you're perfectly capable of telling a guy when to get lost."

"True. Though some guys have a hard time believing I mean what I say. The old no is yes syndrome. _Those_ are the ones who need a little "encouragement" from my partner."

"Not me. I won't stay where I'm not wanted, dragon or no dragon," he asserted.

"I'll keep that in mind," Amelia chuckled.

Severus decided a change of subject was in order. "Does he breathe fire like the other dragons?"

"Yeah, but he's got other breath weapons too. Bronzes are the most magically talented of all the dragons. He can also breathe a vapor that will knock a man—several men probably—or a dragon out. And that's not all. Since the Exodus, the bronzes have become, um, fanatical about secrecy and they've been using their third breath weapon a lot more than they used to. Fireflash can also spit a cone of amnesiac gas, to make a person forget they ever saw him."

"Now _that's_ real useful with Muggles."

"Or anybody who stumbles upon a bronze's territory. Fireflash and his kind don't like killing for no reason, and the harming of innocents is particularly abhorrent to them. But hurt one of their own or someone they care for . . .well, they're still dragons when all's said and done."

"Any wizard fool enough to challenge a dragon deserves whatever he gets," Snape pointed out. "Ours might not talk, but they can tear you to pieces quick enough, or burn you to a cinder if they're feeling cranky." He shook his head. "That's why I think dragon handlers are insane, either that or they have a death wish."

"Dragon handlers!" Amelia snorted. "I'd like to see them try and handle Fireflash. He'd send them on a one way trip to the moon without a wand."

"Damn straight I would," Fireflash spoke up, not opening his eyes. "No jumped up animal trainer's gonna tell _me_ what to do, by George! And they ought to leave my lesser kindred in peace too, they're not trained seals, they've got their pride, even if they can't vocalize. Only human arrogance assumes otherwise."

"Why _can't_ they talk?" Severus queried. He wished he'd brought a notebook, he could've taken notes on this fascinating subject. Oh well, his memory was excellent.

Fireflash fanned himself with a wing tip before answering. "Brain development. For some reason they never developed higher brain functions, like the need or desire to vocalize with humans. But don't ever make the mistake of thinking they're stupid or "mere animals", young one. They're smarter than dolphins or apes and they resent the way you wizards over here have treated them, stealing their eggs and enslaving them for your tournaments and such. You lost respect for them as an intelligent species, and that's why they're so quick to attack first and ask questions later. They figure anybody who makes a career of capturing dragons and treating them like dumb beasts isn't worth preserving."

"I never knew that," Severus admitted, ashamed. "We were always taught that dragons were nothing more than dangerous predators."

"Dragonslayer Guild propaganda." Fireflash growled. "You European wizards bought that line of bull hook, line, and sinker. Then you added insult to injury by stealing away their eggs and selling them. According to the Guild, dragons were good for only two things—ingredients for a potion or exhibition in a circus. With that kind of attitude, is it any wonder that most dragons saw humans as food and flamed first and asked questions later?"

"Not when you put it that way. I have to tell the Ministry about this. All these years we've been committing genocide," Snape murmured, feeling sick. "Maybe they can pass a law or something."

Fireflash shot the distraught wizard a pitying look. "Kid, they already know all this. It's old news to them. My people told the Head of your Order the truth of our lesser kindred centuries ago. It didn't make a damned bit of difference. The Guild offered gold and all we offered was morality. Guess who won? That was when the Guild pointed the finger at us and said we were too dangerous to exist. It's far easier to kill than to admit you've made a mistake."

"I'll send a letter anyway," Snape snarled, angry past bearing at the Ministry's blindness. "_Someone_ up there should know what you told me. It's not right."

"Tell me about it," the dragon sighed. "I doubt it'll do any good, Snape, but thanks for trying. You've got a good heart, kid." Then he added roguishly, "Even if you are a British wizard. I like you, and I don't say that about just any magician."

"Thank you, sir. You honor me."

Fireflash colored a slight blue-green. "Hey, don't say that too loud. Got a reputation to maintain, y'know." He winked.

"Some reputation," his partner laughed.

"Better than yours. The sight of me alone makes dark wizards tremble."

"We could have used you against Voldemort," Snape muttered, still angry over the Ministry's betrayal. _I don't think I'll ever trust them again. Not after this cover up. Does Dumbledore know of it? If not, he should. I'll send him an owl too, just in case._

"Even I've heard of _that_ one," Amelia said darkly. "Wizard version of Hitler, if half the stories I've heard are true."

"He's worse than the rumors. _Was_ worse, I should say, since he's dead now."

"I hadn't heard that. Who killed him?"

"He killed himself, or so they say. Cast Avada Kedavra—the Killing Curse—at a year-old boy named Harry Potter. Somehow the curse was reflected back on him, nobody knows how. But the boy lived and the Dark Lord died." Snape related. "Or at least, that's what the Ministry thinks."

Amelia cocked her head at him. "But you don't think so."

"No. I don't think he's as easily vanquished as all that. He was a powerful wizard, one of the most powerful in the world. He was cunning, cruel, and smart. He wanted a way to cheat death, become immortal. Who knows what blood spells he conjured in the dark of the night, what powers he called upon to get what he desired? He bartered his soul away long ago—if he ever had one to start with. Evil never really dies, you know. It just sleeps, waiting for the next opportunity to rise and cast a shadow."

"I know. No one knows that particular truth better, who has touched evil's mind and listened to his every emotion. Have you ever told anyone else your theory?"

Severus laughed. "Not a chance. They'd think I was out of my head. They want so much to believe he's gone for good, and all the evil he did is dead with him. I want to believe that too, I wish like blazes I could, but I know—I just _know_—this isn't over yet. We've won a battle, a great victory, but we haven't won the war. This is the calm before the storm."

"I'd have to agree with you. Necromancers like him are notoriously difficult to kill. You can slay their body, but if they know how, they can preserve their spirit and return again. You say no one saw him die? They found no body?"

Snape shook his head. "The only witness to Voldemort's demise was a baby. As far as we know, a body was never found, but if he was alive, he would have continued his campaign of terror. So the Ministry presumed him dead and those followers of his we've captured swear he's dead too, they claim he's marked them and would know if he wasn't."

"And you trust their word?"

"About as far as I could spit. They'd sell out their own mothers if the price is right," Snape sneered, his lip curling in revulsion. "They're only loyal to save their own skin."

"I'm not surprised. Loyalty born of fear never lasts. So you think there's a chance he might come back one day?"

"Yes. And I'm going to be prepared when he does," Snape vowed.

"Could you use a bit of help? If so, I'd be happy to assist."

"Thank you, but I'd never expect you to put yourself in danger because I asked you to," Severus began.

"You're not asking, I volunteered," Amelia stated firmly. "Hunting down dark wizards is my specialty, remember?"

"In the United States," he argued.

"Anywhere, if I so choose. Evil knows no boundaries, therefore neither do I. I took an oath as a Dark Hunter to fight evil wherever I found it. I choose to stand with you, Severus Snape."

"Amelia . . .I-I don't know what to say . . ."

"Just say yes, Potions Master."

"Very well." He smiled at her. "I couldn't ask for a better ally."

"Or a better friend."

"That too."

He reached out a hand and she clasped it. That unnamable something flared between them again, and Severus quivered at her touch, feeling as if he'd made yet another Unbreakable Vow, only this time it was his heart he had bound.


	3. Second Chance

**Second Chance**

The weeks and months that followed were some of the happiest moments of Severus Snape's life. Meeting Amelia Amarotti and Fireflash in the glen that afternoon had changed his life forever.

As a child, his best friend had been Lily Evans, but as a young adult he'd been careful to keep to himself, shutting off his heart in order to preserve himself from Voldemort's mind probes and the petty jealousies of the other Death Eaters.

Severus was perhaps the strongest Occlumency talent in Europe, maybe even the United States as well. He had needed to be to prevent the ever suspicious Voldemort from reading his thoughts and learning the deepest secrets of his soul. His shields were second to none and that alone enabled him to escape the ruthless necromancer's devouring of his mind.

The other Death Eaters had no defense against their Dark Lord, their minds were open books to him.

Not so Severus Snape's.

Snape allowed Voldemort access to his mind as would any loyal Death Eater, but he only let the Dark Lord touch the surface of his mind. He gave Voldemort what the other wanted to see, a perfect follower, believing heart and soul in the unholy cause, yet also one who was trusted by the other side. Voldemort was satisfied by what he found and never probed deeper, a good thing for Severus, who would have given himself away with his triple strength mindshields.

Thus he found it a bit disconcerting that Amelia could tell when he was lying, but he allowed that her empathic talents worked on a different level, and he had never learned to completely shield his emotions, especially from a master empath.

But being with Amelia was something he looked forward to, so he didn't regret that she could almost always tell what he was feeling. Normally, being so vulnerable would have frightened him terribly, but strangely enough, he trusted her. He sensed on some visceral level that she would never use her power to take advantage of him, or for personal gratification or to harm him. She had integrity and honor, was passionate and funny by turns, but most of all she liked him just the way he was.

Lily had been that way, accepting of the shy little boy he'd been. Amelia had that same generosity of spirit, as well as a bit more. She soothed the raw places in his soul caused by his guilt and betrayal of the Potters, all unknowing. But he would be forever grateful for it.

He knew she was aware that he had some wound upon his soul, something dark that he dared not reveal, but she never asked him what it was. She respected his privacy and did not pry and it was for that he loved her best of all.

Once, soon after he had met her, he had asked, "Do you ever wonder about the secrets men have in hidden in their souls?"

She had answered, "Of course, everyone does. But those secrets are not mine to know, unless the person chooses to share them with me. As an empath, I'm almost fanatical about personal privacy. I would _never_ read another's emotions out of simple curiosity, or without their consent. The only exception I ever made was when I was tracking Slade, and it was a matter of life and death. But otherwise . . .I believe in the sanctity of the individual. You can do too much damage that way. People aren't toys, to be bent and shaped to an empath's will. Whatever secrets you have are safe from me, Severus."

"And if I said I had none?"

"Then you'd be lying. We all have secrets, my friend. Things we can examine only in the darkest part of the night, because we are ashamed and afraid. No one can ever be truly honest, it costs too much. Not even an empath."

_But what would you say if you knew **my** secret?_ He'd thought later, alone in his house_. I was once a Death Eater. I bear the Dark Mark of servitude still upon my skin. What would you think, little Dark Hunter, if you knew what I had been? Could you forgive me that? Even that? I think not._

Despite the dark secret that stained his soul, he truly enjoyed her company. She made him laugh, and that wasn't something he did easily. He had not known much joy in his short life, yet when he was with her, it seemed that was all he knew.

The second day after their initial meeting, he'd spent trying to come up with a curriculum and some kind of teaching methods, for even though he was a reluctant teacher, and had a good six months to figure out a plan, he wanted it out of the way.

Potions was mostly a hands-on experience, you learned more by doing than by reading. Oh, you could study recipes and memorize ingredients and definitions, but nothing replaced actually going into a lab and preparing a potion from scratch.

It was not an exact science either. Nothing with magic was. You could follow a recipe exactly and still come up with some unexpected result.

Though for the most part, the recipes that worked 99 of the time were the ones you learned in school. They'd been handed down for centuries and were almost foolproof.

Not that they couldn't be improved upon. He'd done just that in his Advanced Potions during his fifth and sixth years, when his instinct and knowledge of plants and herbs far outstripped the standard text they'd worked with. He'd also outstripped his teacher, Professor Slughorn, though he was careful to never boast of his potential. He preferred to let the results speak for themselves.

He'd always detested those students who thought they knew everything and who had to show off their knowledge every class by always having the right answer. All they knew were textbooks, inside and out, and sometimes the solution to a problem was not always the easy one, or the one everyone accepted. Sometimes you just had to go on instinct.

There had been plenty of times in school he'd wanted to snap at one of those know-it-all encyclopedias to just shut up and let someone else answer the question, you weren't the only student in the class. Sometimes you learned more from a wrong answer than a right one. If you never made mistakes, you could never learn from them, and if you always did the right thing, you didn't know how to react when something went wrong.

That had happened to several of his classmates, solid students who always received perfect marks, graduated and went on to perfectly good careers in the Ministry. They always knew what to say, how to act, and followed policy to the letter like perfect automatons.

But when Voldemort showed up, throwing a monkey wrench into their perfect lives, they were caught flat-footed, unable to respond. They froze, not knowing what to do in the face of such unexpected turmoil. Nothing in the manual had ever covered Dark Wizards threatening all you held dear, and all the textbook-perfect magic you'd learned in school wasn't enough to deal with someone who didn't follow standard rules of spellcasting, who in fact broke all the rules and used outlawed magic. They proved easy prey and they died still wondering why their perfect methods hadn't saved them.

This new generation of students could not afford to become complacent, following Ministry approved methods like sheep. No matter what everyone else in the wizarding world believed, Snape knew that someday Voldemort would return, or someone just like him.

These new students had to be prepared to deal with that eventuality, to fight dark magic effectively, or else they would die.

He knew, none better, what the dark side was capable of. He'd observed firsthand their methods, their utter disregard for any life save their own. They'd not hesitate to kill a child if that child got in their way, for all they cared about was their own agenda.

_I have to teach them to fight, not just react,_ he thought_. I'm the only one who can teach them what they need to survive. The other teachers are good, but they have no practical experience with dark magic. If only Dumbledore had let me teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, I could have prepared them best there, for who knows more about countering dark magic than one who almost became a Dark Wizard?_

His mouth twisted. _Ironic, really, that the very thing that makes me an effective teacher in that subject is also the very thing that prevents me from getting that position. Dumbledore doesn't want to tempt me, not if he can help it. Potions is safer than Defense Against the Dark Arts._

Even so, he could still make sure his students learned enough to combat the return of the Death Eaters. Disguised within the accepted curriculum, he could teach them antidotes and poisons, healing elixirs and counter-curses to revive those struck down by forbidden magic. Magic that skirted the border of what the Ministry deemed acceptable for apprentice wizards to learn. Yet learn it they must, or else suffer the fate of those other wizards, easy prey for an unscrupulous dark practitioner.

Half of those poor people died because they couldn't react fast enough to deflect a curse or hex, because none of them had ever been taught to expect the unexpected.

That had never been a lesson he'd needed to be taught. He'd learned that long before, victim of a father with an unpredictable temper and love of beer. The one good thing his father taught him was to be alert and quick enough to duck and run.

__

I have to teach that to my students. It won't be easy, I'm going to have to be tough on them, for they need to learn self-discipline, and that isn't easy to impose without help. How can I teach them that vital skill when I have only one or two hours a day with them? The only way to make sure they learn it is to ram it down their throats.

_I have to become a blasted drill sergeant, hard and nasty, because what they're going up against is twice as mean as I am and one hesitation, one wrong move, will mean death._

_They'll probably hate me for it, but in the end it'll save their lives, so I can't let myself care about that. I'm not a teacher to be my students' friend, but to teach them how to survive, _he reminded himself sternly. _Someone has to, and no one but me knows what we're up against. So be it. This is my penance. I'll do whatever it takes to protect the children in my care, even if hurts like hell. They'll never know, but I will, and that must be enough. Better that they're alive to hate me than dead for me to mourn._

With those goals in mind, he found outlining a curriculum ridiculously easy. The hard part would be getting Dumbledore to accept it. Or maybe not, for the Headmaster was no fool, and he would understand that extreme measures were called for.

But once he'd done that, he was free to relax. Free to enjoy himself for once. And what he wanted most was to talk more with that fascinating American witch, Amelia Amarotti.

_Magician,_ he reminded himself. _They call them magicians over there, because the name witch has bad connotations thanks to the Salem witch trials and such._

Whatever she chose to call herself, he couldn't wait to see her again.

One bite of her lasagna and he knew he'd just lost his bet. He'd never tasted anything so delicious in his whole life. It was so good he couldn't stop eating it.

Amelia watched him in amusement, he tried so hard to seem nonchalant as he tasted that first bite. But she could see the look of utter bliss in his eyes and it warmed her to the core of her being. She always liked a man who could appreciate her cooking.

She had sensed from the first that here was a man that had been wounded deeply in spirit, not once but many times, until it was a miracle he was not an incurable recluse or suicidal. She also sensed that here was a man capable of great passion, but one who had been either rejected by a woman or had an unfulfilled longing for one. He reminded her of an injured animal, one who kept to the shadows to hide his vulnerability, but who wanted desperately to venture out into the world again, if only he could gather courage enough to do so.

__

Someone—probably several someones—hurt you very badly, but I can help you if you'll let me,

she wanted to say. _I can heal you, fill that empty space within you, if you'll only trust me. Poor Severus. Whoever she was, she missed out on a good man. Oh well, her loss is my gain. I hope._

"Well?" she queried gently. "Is it as good as I said?"

Snape finished chewing and sighed in satisfaction. "You win. This is the best meal I ever ate."

"And wait till you have dessert," Amelia said happily.

"Merlin's Beard! I don't know if I can eat another bite right now."

"Don't worry, Sev. I'll clean up and we can go for a little walk. By the time we get back we'll be ready for my chocolate cream pie and coffee."

"You really _are_ an amazing cook, Amelia."

"Thanks. And I did it without magic too. Actually, my grandmother was a better cook than I am. She could make seven course feasts that were better than professional chefs. I only inherited a fraction of her talent."

"If you only inherited a fraction, your grandmother must have been a food goddess or something. Did you all eat like kings every night?"

"No, but we Italians do love our food." Amelia laughed. "We use only the best and freshest ingredients. But you'll learn all about that tomorrow, when you have your first cooking lesson, Potions Master."

Severus smiled. "I just hope you have plenty of patience."

"I promise not to whack you with a wooden spoon if you forget an ingredient," the Dark Hunter said impishly. "That's what my grandmother used to do to us kids."

"Thanks, Amarotti. Your mercy is greatly appreciated," he said dryly. He took out his wand. "You cooked, so I'll clean." He pointed his wand at the dirty dishes. "_Wingardium leviosa!_" The dishes flew over to the sink. _"Scourgify!"_ A stream of soap flew out of his wand, the sink started running water, and the dishes began to wash themselves.

"I love cleaning spells," Amelia remarked, gesturing quickly. A broom flew out of a corner with a dustpan and began sweeping. "I used to use them all the time to get out of doing chores as a kid."

"Me too," Snape admitted. "I used to read a book while a neaten-up charm cleaned my room. It was the ultimate time saver. And since my mother was a witch, no one ever knew I was breaking the Underage Wizardry Restriction."

Amelia looked puzzled. "You weren't allowed to use magic as a child? Whyever not?"

"Not outside of Hogwarts. The underage wizard rule," Snape explained. "It has to do with using magic responsibly so Muggles don't find out about us. Didn't you have a similar rule?"

"About using magic responsibly, yes. That's why you weren't allowed to study battle magic until you were fifteen and then you had to swear an oath never to use spells on anything or anyone unless you were in peril of your life. And we were taught to never use magic where a Muggle might see, but to absolutely forbid magic outside of school, no. We have some Wizard Academies in the States, usually in the large cities, like New York, Chicago, and LA. But if you don't have the money to get in there—they're very expensive and exclusive—you study with the nearest accredited master magician. We still follow the old master-apprentice rule in most areas, with a master teaching maybe one or two students until they achieve master status.

"In my case, half of my family were masters, and all of them took turns teaching me."

"You must have been close to your family," Severus said, a bit enviously.

"I was, but sometimes it made it hard to learn something, since they each had their own ways of casting something, and they'd argue about it for hours. My Aunt Kathryn and Uncle Joe once got into an argument about the best way to transfigure a water goblet and didn't speak to each other for days."

"Who won?"

"My aunt, I think. She almost always won the arguments," Amelia replied. "My Uncle Andrea taught me how to control my empathic powers when they emerged, since he had them too, only mine were stronger than his ever were. Magic runs stronger in the female line than the male in my family."

She opened the door and stepped out onto the street, which was quiet for this time of evening.

They walked leisurely down the sidewalk, engrossed in their discussion. Several passersby winked knowingly at them, reckoning they were a couple dating.

"While it was fun having my relatives teach me for the most part, I never dared give them a hard time about homework or tests or acted like a smartass."

"I would hope not, otherwise you'd get more than a detention."

"That's for sure. I'd of been grounded for a month, or had my broom taken away, or something like that if I didn't turn in an assignment. As for answering back my teacher, well you just didn't disrespect an adult in my family that way. Was it like that for you too growing up?"

Severus hesitated for a long moment before replying. "I was only allowed to practice magic or discuss it when my father wasn't around. He was a Muggle and I think he resented my mother and me for being able to do what he couldn't. I never could figure out why the hell he married her, he knew what she was from the beginning. He was a miserable bastard for his whole life and he made our lives miserable too until he died."

He broke off abruptly, his hands clenching into involuntary fists. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bring that up. The last thing you need is to listen to some sob story from a man you barely know."

She placed a hand on his arm. "I don't mind. Sometimes you just need to talk and have someone listen. I've always been a good listener. Comes with being an empath, I guess. People naturally tell you what's bothering them," she shrugged. "As for not knowing you—crazy as this might sound, I feel as if I've known you my whole life."

"Impossible. We've only just met. And I normally don't babble on and on about my past to anyone. It can't be changed."

"True. But where we come from shapes us nonetheless."

"Only if we let it. I refuse to be the man my father was. He was never satisfied and he took his frustration out on us. My mother told me once that he'd married her because she was unlike any woman he'd ever known. But he changed, because what I remember best is how he was always on her back to do things like a normal person—without magic. He forbade her to work magic around him," Snape chuckled harshly. "Asking a witch or wizard not to do magic is like asking a fish to stop swimming. But he never understood that, or he didn't want to, or whatever."

"Did she ever try to tell him?"

"Once, I think, for all the good it did. I tried myself, once I knew I had magic in me too. He called me a freak of nature and backhanded me into a wall. That was the first and last time I ever brought up that subject."

"I'm no therapist, but maybe he resented you for having something he never could. Something miraculous and wonderful. Sad, really, that the only way he knew how to appreciate magic was by hurting his son."

"I could care less what reasons he might have had," Severus said heatedly. "They don't matter worth a damn. All I know is that he made my life a living nightmare until my mother and I left him. It was right after I received my letter of acceptance from Hogwarts." He sighed angrily. "Why am I talking about this anyway? I'm not the only kid to ever have a bad childhood and I sure as blazes won't be the last."

"That doesn't make it hurt any less."

He snorted. "It was a long time ago, Amelia. I'm not ten years old anymore, I don't need you to hold my hand."

"Don't you? Severus, everyone needs someone to hold their hand, no matter how old they are. There's nothing wrong with admitting you need someone to lean on. That's what friends are for."

She was right and he knew it. It made him angry, the way she was able to see into his soul, he was afraid of what she might find there. "Maybe you ought to take your own advice, Amarotti, and call somebody," he snapped, jerking his arm from her grasp and striding away from her.

She followed, relentless as a hound on the scent. "I am. That's why I'm here. To confront my own demons and move on. But I can't do that without help."

He averted his eyes. "I'm not a therapist."

"I don't need a shrink, Snape. I need you," she said bluntly.

"What?" He halted so abruptly she nearly tread on his heels. "Why me?"

"Because you understand what I'm going through," she answered, moving around to face him. "Only those who have been through hell can show another the way back. I need you as much as you need me." She put a finger to his lips. "Don't bother to deny it. We both know the truth. Now why don't we quit arguing and agree to help each other, okay?"

He looked into her eyes and saw what it had cost her to say that. Like him she was proud, but not too proud to admit she needed help. Even from a sarcastic sharp-tempered git like him.

"Okay. But I don't know how much good I'll be."

"You might be surprised. But together we can do anything."

"If you say so."

"I do." She linked her arm through his once more. "Now let's go back and eat dessert. You can't fight demons successfully on an empty stomach."

"I agree. That more of your grandmother's Italian wisdom?"

"No. That's because I'm a chocolate addict and that pie has a piece with my name on it. Yours too, if you'd care to join me?"

He hesitated for the barest fraction of a second before nodding. "As you wish. I'm a closet addict myself."

She laughed at that. "I'd never have guessed. Come on, Sev, before one of the neighbors realizes that pie's unattended and steals it."

"Over my dead body!" he turned around and began to run back the way they came.

Grinning, she followed, matching him stride for stride.

That was the beginning of their remarkable friendship, born out of the mutual need to heal from the scars of a stormy past and find hope and love again.

Most of their discussions began over food at first, since Amelia was determined to fulfill the terms of their bet by teaching Severus how to cook.

He proved adept at following the recipes, for cooking was similar to making potions in that respect.

"You're precise and you follow directions exactly," she remarked one day, while watching him measuring out spices for a beef stew.

"Something wrong with that?" He tossed a teaspoon of parsley in the simmering pot of beef stock. "Being precise is a prime requisite in my field. Otherwise you could end up missing an eye or a hand."

"Yeah, but even in potion making you can develop shortcuts."

"Only if you know what in hell you're doing," he argued. "Otherwise you're asking for trouble."

"You don't need to be so controlled when you cook, though. Cooking's not so much a science as it is an art. It's okay to experiment."

"What happens if I do that and it tastes terrible? Then all that time and effort is wasted."

"So what? You can't make an omelet—"she began.

"—without breaking a few eggs," he finished, rolling his eyes.

"Uh-huh. So don't be afraid to experiment a bit every now and again. Add a bit more garlic or some onion to this. What's the worst that can happen? That you'll have to throw it out? Who cares, Sev? In cooking, you always get a second chance."

"I wish life were that way."

"But it is. Life is one unending series of second chances."

"How can you say that? If the person you wronged or whatever is dead, that's it."

"Ah, but I never said you wouldn't miss one or two along the way. That's part of the risk you take, sometimes one slips by you. But that doesn't mean it was never there to begin with. You simply have to learn to see them."

"Then you honestly believe that everyone deserves a second chance?"

"Yes and no. I don't believe that one bad choice should condemn you for life," Amelia clarified. "We all make mistakes, the important thing is to learn from them and not keep repeating them. However, there are certain people, like the hardened criminals that I hunt down, that deliberately choose wrong, time after time, and those people deserve whatever bad things that happen to them. Like the serial killer who chooses, time and again, to take the lives of innocents. He's already used up most of his second chances and the only option left is to bring him in and put him where he can't do any harm."

"I see. So unless you're a stone-cold killer or a rapist or something, that person deserves a second chance?"

"Yes. If they truly regret what they did, they deserve a chance to set things right. You've heard the saying, life doesn't give second chances? I disagree totally with that. Life gives you plenty of second chances, but most times you either ignore them, miss them, or don't think you deserve them. But you still have a choice, and what you make of it is up to you."

"In other words, try not to mess up the way you did the first time. Makes sense, I suppose."

"But. . .you don't believe in it."

"No."

"How come?"

"I can't tell you."

"All right." Then she gave him another of those disconcerting stares and added, "Even you deserve a second chance, Severus, no matter what you think."

He stopped stirring the stew and gaped at her. "Are you reading my mind?"

"Nope. But I am picking up anxiety and nervousness from you, and I just put two and two together. Sorry, it's reflex, even with my shields up."

"I'll have to work on my control. After dessert, that is."

Within a week or two they were as comfortable with each other as if they'd grown up together. She called him Sev and he called her Amy. Normally, he didn't like nicknames, they smacked of familiarity and he liked to keep people at a distance. But he couldn't do that with Amelia, and when she called him Sev it sounded right, though she was the only one allowed to call him that.

Inbetween his cooking lessons he took her on short tours of London, both in the wizarding world and the Muggle side. They shopped at Diagon Alley and toured Hogsmeade. They visited all the typical tourist attractions, like Big Ben, Westminster Palace, and the Tower of London. They went boating on the Thames, pausing to speak to the local water sprites beneath London Bridge. They strolled through Hyde Park and fed all the birds there.

In fifteen seconds, Amelia had what seemed like every bird in the park at her feet, on her shoulders, even on her head. All of them were cooing and chirping delightedly, utterly besotted with the little magician.

Luckily, they were alone when it happened. Snape pretended to look shocked, but all of a sudden he burst out laughing.

"What did you do, cast a summoning charm?" he asked when he could speak again.

Amelia flashed him a rueful look. "No. Animals just love me. Now quit making fun of me and get some of them off of me. They're darling, but I don't want my clothes ruined."

"Actually, I think you look rather . . .cute and exotic," he smirked. "You could start a new fashion trend, the Living Bird Dress or something," he teased.

"_Fashion trend?_ Cute and exotic?" she sputtered, waving her hands, trying to dislodge some of the sparrows and wrens perching on her shoulders. "Severus Snape, you're impossible!"

"Pity they're not peacocks, you could have a cloak."

"Very funny. Don't just stand there, get them off me."

"With magic or seeds?"

"Severus!"

"Okay. Okay." He threw some seeds in a wide arc on the ground and half the colony on Amelia dove at them.

Then he drew his wand and whistled a sequence of notes that sounded like bird calls and pointed the tip at the trees. The remaining thrushes, sparrows, and finches fluttered off of Amelia and settled in the branches, chirping enthusiastically.

"Hmmm. Looks like you need a bit of cleaning up," he muttered, examining her leisurely. Her coral-colored dress was splattered with bird droppings.

She groaned. "How bad is it?"

"Not too bad. I'll fix it."

He waved his wand over her and her dress was free of bird droppings and smelled freshly laundered besides.

"There. Good as new." he tucked his wand back inside of his jacket. "Does that sort of thing happen often? Because if it does, you shouldn't go near Kensington Park Zoo."

"Smartass," she growled, smacking him on the shoulder lightly. "I'm an animal magnet. I cast an aura that animals can sense and they feel calm and happy when they're near me. I've always been able to do it, even as a little kid. I wanted to be a vet before I knew I was a wizard. I used to heal all the injured wild animals that came to me."

"And you chose to become a Dark Hunter instead of a Care of Magical Creatures trainer?"

"Yeah. I love animals, but I was needed more as a Dark Hunter, so that was why I chose it. Don't get me wrong, I love my job, but the stress really gets to you. Still, the pay's good, so that's some compensation. And for every dark wizard I nail, that's one less running about hurting people. In the end, it's worth it."

Severus admired her conviction and her sense of justice. It was something he wished he shared. Instead all he had was guilt and resentment and a burning hatred of Voldemort for being the author of so much misery.

__

One day, I'll be free of your shadow,

Snape vowed. _When you're dead forever and roasting in hell, then my redemption will be complete. Until then, however, I'll cherish these moments with Amelia, because nothing good in my life ever lasts._

**So how was that for a little romance? Please review!**

**Next: Amelia's birthday and Sev has a special surprise for her!**


	4. The Locket

**The Locket**

Severus hummed to himself as he tapped the last gold link into place with the tiny jeweler's mallet. He rubbed the finished chain with a soft cloth dipped in Mysterio's Marvelous Magical Polish, giving it a luster a leprechaun would envy.

__

Nice. Very nice, if I do say so myself.

He snapped his fingers and the chain levitated itself into a box lined with royal blue velvet. He'd been experimenting more and more with wandless spells since he'd met Amelia, finding them quicker and easier to cast. The little American magician's influence was increasing daily, he thought and smiled.

"That chain will look gorgeous about Amelia's neck," he said to himself. "Now for the locket."

He'd set the melted gold into the mold last night, letting it harden overnight. He'd removed the locket from the mold this morning and it was ready for engraving.

He'd thought long and hard about the etching on the front of the locket, which was about three inches in diameter and shaped like a heart.

He'd finally decided on a phoenix, wings spread, because a phoenix was a symbol of eternal life, rebirth, and hope—all the things Amelia had brought back into his life.

"Our love is as eternal as the phoenix," he whispered, cradling the locket gently before setting it down on his worktable.

This was his lab, in his basement, where he brewed potions, but for the last few days he'd turned it into a jeweler's shop while he'd worked on the locket and chain.

He drew his wand, for this next incantation was difficult and he'd need every ounce of precision he possessed to make it work. Beside the locket were several tiny engraver's tools, tipped with diamond points. They'd cost him a few Galleons, but he didn't mind. Amelia was worth every copper Knut.

"_Intaglio scriptorius!_" he barked, moving his wand over the tools, a piece of parchment, and the locket in one smooth motion.

He'd sketched a phoenix on a piece of paper before he'd awakened the engraving tools. He concentrated hard on it and directed the tools mentally to copy the drawing onto the locket.

This was tricky, because if he let his concentration slip for an instant, the etching would be ruined.

He closed his eyes and thought about his drawing until the lines were etched into his brain. When he opened his eyes the diamond-tipped tools were working hard etching the phoenix into the gold. It took a good hour to do this, not because the gold was so hard to cut, but because the phoenix was so intricate. You could see every feather and talon on it, thanks to Severus's powerful photographic memory.

He didn't need to hold the image in his mind for longer than a minute or two once the tools began carving, after that the spell took over.

He was considering a garnet chip for the eye, but no other jewels were going on it. Amelia was not flashy or ostentatious the way Narcissa or Bellatrix were, two sisters who'd been in Slytherin with him, and who later married Death Eaters. The locket would have a pristine simple beauty, just like the magician it was intended for.

He'd even written a line for the back of the locket, in his best handwriting. That parchment read: _From my heart to yours, always Sev._

He'd had a miniature portrait of the two of them smiling at each other in their secret glen taken by a helpful Fireflash, who was a closet romantic.

That would be set into the inside after the engraving was finished.

He had considered going out and purchasing a necklace at first from one of the many jewelers in Diagon Alley. But he'd wanted something special, something unique to express his deep affection and love for the fiery Dark Hunter.

Besides, the jewelry in Diagon Alley was overpriced and he couldn't afford much. His advance on his teacher's salary did not stretch very far. Raw gold and engraving tools were cheaper and this way he could personalize it just the way he wanted.

"Mister Perfectionist," Amy called him, and he had to admit she was dead on target. All his potion ingredients were carefully stored and labeled, he knew exactly where everything was, and he disliked anyone using his lab without him there to supervise.

"A place for everything and everything in its place," had been a favorite saying of his mother Eileen, who'd had a dread of disorder and clutter.

Probably where he'd inherited it from. It was something else he and Amelia had in common, he reflected, waiting for the spell to finish.

"A neat freak, I see," Amelia had exclaimed when she'd first set foot in his tiny house, which he'd inherited upon his mother's death. "Glad to know I'm not alone. I used to drive my roommate at the Academy up the wall, I was always yelling at her to pick up her clothes and shoes, she was like a pig in a sty."

"How could you tell? I could have straightened this up this morning."

She shook her head slightly. "I know the feel of a place with multiple cleaning spells and this one has them practically embedded into the floor and the walls. Just like my loft in the city."

"Does it bother you then? It'd make some of my former schoolmates want to run screaming down the street."

"Not me, buster," she grinned, kicking off her shoes. "Makes me feel right at home."

Two weeks before, he'd finally managed to persuade her to move in with him, for it made little sense for her to rent a flat when she could live here for free. That had been one of the issues with her living at Spinner's End. She'd insisted on paying him something and he'd refused.

"But it doesn't _feel_ right, my living here for nothing. It's not like I can't afford it, and I know what teachers' salaries are like, my cousin is one," she'd argued.

"No. This house doesn't cost me anything, I own it free and clear. I know it's the size of a shoebox, but it's all mine. And if I want my girlfriend to stay here, that's my prerogative."

"Severus. I insist," she pressed, reaching into a pocket and holding out two Gold Galleons and a Silver Sickle.

He closed her hand firmly over the coins. "Amelia, when I say no I mean it. Put it away."

"But—"

"One more word out of you and I swear I'm going to whack you one," he threatened, using one of his angry teacher glares on her.

"Fine," she shoved the money back in her pocket. "Bloody stubborn man!"

"Look who's talking."

"Shut up, Sev," she ordered. "I won't pay rent, but I _will_ do the grocery shopping. That's non-negotiable, Mr. Snape."

"Fair enough," he'd conceded. "Sorry this place isn't bigger. I've thought about enlarging it . . ."

"Don't. It's perfect the way it is. It's cozy, reminds me of the beach house we used to rent in the summer at the Jersey shore."

"It does?"

"Of course, some of the rugs in the den are worn and we could use a new couch and maybe a recliner too and a coffee table . . ."

"I know. I've been meaning to get some, but with my salary . . ."

"See, that's why you ought to let me pay rent," she began.

"Amelia," he growled warningly.

She put her hands on his shoulders and gazed into his eyes. "Proud as a hippogriff, aren't you? Lucky you have a rich girlfriend."

"I'm not after your money, sweetheart," he smirked.

"Thank heaven. Else I'd have walked away a long time ago." She pulled his head down and kissed him. "Time to go shopping, Sev."

"What, _now?_" he cried, a note of alarm in his voice. Last time she'd said that, they'd ended up going into every shoe store in Diagon Alley. "No more shoes. Only furniture and rugs," he ordered firmly.

"Hey, no fair. That's like me telling you no books."

"Amy, you've got enough shoes to outfit a millipede. Why do you need another pair?"

"Sev, a girl can _never_ have too many shoes. It's a universal law."

"Never mind. I knew the moment I heard the word shopping I was doomed," he groaned. "Just try not to deplete their stock too much."

"I'll let you pick out the couch. And we can stop in at Flourish and Blotts and pick up those _Lost Potions of the Ages_ texts you've been eyeing for the last two months."

His eyes lit up at that last. "Let's go." He snatched up his jacket. "On the way to Ferarra's Furniture Emporium I'll stop in and tell Mr. Bosworth to put them on hold for me. I saw that sleazy Herman Sidewinder looking at them the other day and I'll spit if he buys them. He isn't fit to touch their spines, he's nothing but a third-rate witch doctor, he can barely read English, much less Latin, and he failed his Potions OWL two times his fifth year. No way am I letting him get his grubby hands on _my_ books . . ."

Amelia hid a grin behind her hand and muttered to herself, "Will you listen to the man? And he says _I'm_ crazy about shoes . . . he'd spend his last Knut on a piece of parchment."

When their impromptu shopping trip had ended, they had a comfy beige Roc-hide sectional, not too pricey, soft like velvet but extremely stain resistant, a matching recliner, and an oak coffee table.

"Great if you've got kids," the sales wizard had burbled at them. "Or are planning on a family."

Amelia had to bite her lip to keep from exploding in laughter, especially after seeing the look of utter horror on Snape's face. The salesman had been totally oblivious.

They'd bought handwoven rugs made in Egypt with designs of lotus' and falcons that moved into different patterns every hour. _Lost Potions of the Ages_ now rested safely on Severus' bookshelf in a place of honor, never again to endure the indignity of Sidewinder's filthy fingers smudging its pages.

Amelia had also bought a pair of snakeskin sandals (they were on sale).

Severus didn't say a word, though he wondered if they ought to build a shed just for Amelia's shoe collection.

_It could be worse,_ he reminded himself._ She could be into collecting china dolls or heaven forbid, teddy bears._ The mere thought made him shudder.

He blinked, coming back from his trip down memory lane. He'd chosen a locket for remembrance, so she would have something to look at if she wished to recall her time in Britain with him. The mere thought of her leaving left his stomach in knots, a lump the size of a boulder in his throat, and a hole in his heart that was bottomless.

_This isn't forever, Severus. You always knew that. At the end of six months she'll go back to her life in the States and you'll go back to Hogwarts and teach Potions to a bunch of snot-nosed brats and spy on the Death Eaters for Dumbledore._

That knowledge didn't change the fact that he was going to miss her terribly. For he had fallen in love with her, all unwitting, and he dreaded saying goodbye. But he knew better than to offer marriage to her. They lived in two different worlds and he refused to ask her to choose between them. It wasn't fair for her to become a wife to a man who led a secret life, who would always be suspected of being allied with evil. He was no good for her, even though he loved her with all he was.

__

I won't think about that now. We still have three months left and tomorrow's her birthday.

He'd planned a special dinner for her, lasagna and garlic bread and a bottle of Madame Rosmerta's finest wine. He would cook the lasagna himself, Fireflash had promised he'd keep Amelia away from the house so Severus could cook in peace. He was now quite a good cook, thanks in no small part to Amelia.

He found he enjoyed it, even the more time consuming recipes like lobster bisque or curried chicken with vegetables and almond rice. He liked the challenge of the more complicated recipes, the same way he did making the expert level potions in his _Lost Potions_ books.

He'd also learned to allow himself the leisure to create alternate recipes, adding or subtracting ingredients according to what he or Amelia liked.

For this dinner, however, he would stick to the traditional recipe set out by Nonna Amarotti. It was so delicious he saw no reason to alter it. He would also make Parmesan garlic bread, one of their favorites. Dessert would be a killer devil's food cake with double chocolate fudge frosting. Chocoholic paradise.

She had received presents from her parents, grandmother, and sisters, delivered by early morning owl. He wondered what they thought of her living with him, if she had told them or not. What would _he_ have thought, if _his_ daughter had told him she was sharing a house with a young man she'd only met three months ago? He'd probably have pitched a fit. It was a good thing then that he didn't have children. Heaven only knew what sort of father he'd make.

Had he lived an ordinary life, he might have considered marrying Amelia and having a kid or two, but that was not an option. Still, he wasn't looking forward to being alone again.

__

That's the story of my life. I should be used to it by now. One way or another, I'm always alone.

He frowned, noting the spell had finished engraving the phoenix. He took a small pair of tweezers, set the garnet eye in the phoenix's head and whispered a sticking charm.

The garnet eye winked at him and he examined the locket critically. The design was classic yet beautiful. He flipped the locket over and repeated the engraving charm.

The tools began to copy the inscription he'd chosen onto the back of the locket in elegant script.

That part wouldn't take too long. After, he'd buff it with Mysterio and place the portrait inside. Then he'd slip it on the chain and it would be finished.

__

I hope she likes it.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

"Close your eyes, Amy," Snape ordered, putting his hands over Amelia's eyes. "No peeking now."

"Sev, what _is_ this?" she laughed. "Why all the mystery?"

"You'll see. Take two steps forward. Stop. Okay, open them." He took his hands away. "Happy birthday, Amelia!"

"Oh, Sev. You shouldn't have."

The small dining room had been transformed by magic into a Roman villa, with a mosaic floor and classical paintings on the walls, marble statues of goddesses and gods surrounding a beautiful marble table laid out with crystal and china.

"I feel like an empress."

"Tonight you are." He took her arm and escorted her over to one of the chairs, pulled it out, and waited for her to be seated.

"You look very handsome tonight, Potions Master," she noted.

He was wearing a brand new green dress shirt, a Slytherin tie, black pants, and new shoes.

"Birkenstocks," she exclaimed. "They're the ones I told you I liked."

"You have good taste, Amy." He clapped his hands. "Dinner is served, my lady."

The pan of lasagna and the basket of garlic bread appeared on the table. A bottle of wine floated over and poured itself into their glasses.

"Severus, this is incredible. What a wonderful surprise."

He lifted his glass. "Cheers. May you have many more birthdays to come."

She touched her glass to his. "You spoil me, Severus Snape. First you make me breakfast, now you cook me dinner too."

"You deserve it, Amelia, for putting up with me. And it's your birthday, after all."

"Twenty-two. Getting old."

"Positively ancient."

"Best mind your manners then, young man," she shook her finger at him.

"Yes, Grandma," he shot back.

"You're incorrigible, do you know that?"

"So my mother told me."

She took a bite of lasagna. "Forget what I just said. You're the best, Sev. This is one of the best birthdays I've ever had."

"It is? But your family's not here."

"No, but you are. My family hasn't celebrated a birthday with me like this since I was eighteen. Too busy, I guess. They send gifts though." She sipped the wine. "Mama Mia, Sev! This wine's one of the best they've got here. What were you thinking, buying this?"

"That it was your birthday, of course."

"Aww, I really love you, Severus Snape."

He grinned at her, she was so beautiful, in her white cashmere sweater with Swavroski crystals about the collar and turquoise trousers with matching white heels with more crystals. "I love you too, sweetheart."

The words came easily to him now, where once he couldn't say two words to a girl, much less admit he loved her. Amelia had changed him profoundly, giving him her heart and teaching him to do the same.

He kept stealing glances at her all through dinner, which was excellent, and dessert, which they were almost too full to do justice to.

Amelia sighed heavily after eating the last bit of chocolate cake on her plate. "Now this is what I call a birthday. Great wine, fantastic food, and a wonderful man to share it with. What more could a girl want?"

"Uh . . .how about a present?"

"Severus, no. This was enough of a present, honest."

"Not quite." He waved his wand and whispered, "_Accio_ present." A blue velvet box appeared from around a corner and sailed into his outstretched hand. "Happy twenty-second birthday, my dearest Amelia." He handed her the box. "Open it."

"Sev, I'm gonna kill you. You didn't have to spend money on me . . ." she trailed off as she lifted the lid off the box. "Oh! It's so beautiful." Tears glistened in her eyes. She lifted the locket from its bed of blue velvet.

"Turn it over," he prompted.

She did, and gasped.

"Now open it."

"My God! Who took this picture?"

"Fireflash. I asked him to," he admitted with a sly grin.

"It's the most wonderful gift I've ever gotten in my life. I love it." She held the locket out to him. "Put it on me, please."

He did, then walked around her to admire the way it looked on her slender neck.

"Beautiful, if I do say so myself."

Comprehension dawned in her eyes. "You _made_ this didn't you?"

Snape nodded. "Pretty much. I couldn't find anything I really liked anywhere, so I decided to make one for you. Still feel like killing me?"

"You crazy wonderful man!" she laughed, reaching out and drawing him to her. "All I want to do right now is kiss you senseless, Sev."

So she did, and quite a bit more besides.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

She lay with her head on his shoulder, her hair a blaze of sunset against the white pillow. She slept rhythmically, deeply, and he was perfectly content to lie here all morning and look at her.

"I love you so very much, Amelia Amarotti," he whispered. "You are the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"So are you," she murmured, then opened her eyes and smiled. "The very best thing, Severus. I will love you for all my life and beyond, I promise."

He hugged her to him, burying his face in her hair. "Stay with me. Don't ever leave me."

"I wish I could. But I have to go back. I'll stay as long as I can, beloved. But someday I'll return to you."

"Promise?"

"Promise. Wait for me."

"I will. I'll be right here, or at Hogwarts. Write me after you go back."

"Of course." She kissed him. "Right now I'm not going anywhere, Potions Master. Except to sleep in your arms."

"Good idea." He yawned, then snuggled up next to her. In five seconds he was asleep, and it was the most peaceful sleep he'd ever had.

For once he did not have nightmares of the Potters' death, or of Voldemort returning. Instead he dreamed of Amelia, walking hand in hand with him through the secret glen.

He turned to her and said, "You were right. There really _are_ such things as second chances. And you're mine."

Then he kissed her.

He woke with the taste of her still on his lips.

**So, who wants Sev to kiss them like that?**

**I do!**

**Reviews keep the author sane, so please leave some!**


	5. Dragon Flight

**Dragon Flight**

The next day they went flying. Not on a broomstick, but on dragonback. Fireflash explained that very few bronze dragons ever allowed wizards on their back, but he made exceptions for Dark Hunters.

"I'll make an exception for you too, kid, since you're Amelia's significant other and you treat her decent," Fireflash smiled toothily, his azure eyes glinting. "You'll be the first European wizard to ride a bronze in oh, over five centuries. Hope you appreciate it."

Severus bowed, then said respectfully, "It'll be a great honor, sir, and I'll remember it for the rest of my life."

"Good. You've got nice manners, I'll say that for you. Half the wizards they turn out these days think who the blazes they are, treat me like some freakin' dinosaur, got no respect, see?" Fireflash snorted, plumes of smoke drifting from his nostrils. "'Course, _those_ are the ones I dump into the ocean until they learn better. I mean, I'm a dragon, not a taxi service."

"I would never think otherwise," Snape assured him, beginning to think this wasn't such a good idea.

"Fireflash! Quit telling stories," Amelia scolded, thumping the dragon's shoulder. "Don't listen to him, Sev. He's never actually thrown anybody into the ocean, not even if they were royal pains."

"But I've _thought _about it," the bronze grumbled. "Especially with that brat Lucy Hamilton, the chief's daughter. That kid thinks just because her daddy was Head of the Dark Hunters, she can treat me like a limo service. I need to go shopping on Rodeo Drive, Fireflash, or skiing in Denver. You're inbetween cases now, so it's not a problem, my dad says. Who asked _him_? Do I look like I've got _American Airlines_ painted on me? Spoiled little brat, she doesn't need a new ball gown, she needs a good kick in the behind."

"Enough already, partner. I have to deal with her at home, I don't need to deal with her on vacation." Amelia shook her head in disgust. "I don't know which is worse, the way she acts with you, or the way she treats the rest of us, like we were dirt beneath her feet."

"Sounds like Lucius Malfoy, one of my old schoolmates." Snape said dryly. "if he wasn't married already, we could introduce them. They'd make the perfect couple."

"Sure. Frankenstein and his bride," Amelia drawled.

"Or Dracula. Malfoy's like a vampire," Severus chuckled. "Sucks the blood right out of you."

"Sounds like a real nice guy. Glad I've never met him." Then she turned to Fireflash. "Time to get you saddled up, my friend. _Accio_ dragonsaddle!" she commanded, then pointed.

A strange looking contraption that resembled a pilot's chair and a passenger seat on an airplane with about two dozen straps and buckles appeared on the bronze's back.

Fireflash turned his head, caught a loop in his teeth, and pulled it over his head. It settled down over the base of his neck snugly, the straps were made of ultra-strong Roc-hide lined with sheepskin so they didn't rub against the bronze's scales.

The great dragon flexed his shoulder muscles, settling the seats comfortably on part of his shoulders, just before his wings. He spoke a word of dragonspeech and the tangle of straps sorted themselves out and fastened themselves into place. The two largest went about his underbelly, and the rest crisscrossed on his massive chest.

"Check 'em, Amelia honey."

The Dark Hunter stepped up and went over the harness thoroughly, testing to make sure the straps were fastened correctly, laid flat, and were in good condition. "You're good to go, Fireflash."

"Great. Okay, let's get you two lovebirds on board. Amelia, you might want to help Severus, seeing as he's never flown with me before," Fireflash instructed.

"Yes, Captain," she said respectfully. "Sev, the way you get into the saddle from the ground is by climbing up Flash's front leg. Step up onto his foot and then onto his elbow here and from there to his shoulder and the seat. It's kind of like rock climbing."  
Severus eyed the dragon dubiously. "You want me to step on his foot? Won't it hurt him?"

"Nah. I barely feel it, kid," the dragon reassured him. "My scales are tougher than stone. If anything, you'll tickle a bit." He extended his left foreleg.

Severus walked up to the massive forefoot, suppressing an instinctive shudder at the sight of those talons, which were out since they helped the dragon with traction when he took off and landed. Each talon was half the size of Snape's body.

He averted his eyes and stepped gingerly onto the dragon's foot. It felt a little like walking on cobblestones.

Amelia hopped up next to him. "Watch me," she ordered and reached up, grasped the outer edge of a scale, and climbed up to Fireflash's elbow joint, perching on it like a stair. From there it was only a little bit of a scramble to the dragon's shoulder.

Severus set his jaw, determined not to be outdone by the American magician and began climbing, praying he wouldn't slip and fall. Luckily the dragonscale was not slippery and he managed the climb without looking like an idiot.

"Okay, now you can sit down and fasten your flight straps," Amelia told him. "They go over both shoulders and they're ultra-strong and reinforced with magic. You could fly through a tornado and not move an inch. I'll double check your straps when you're ready."

Snape sat cautiously in the seat, it was padded and warm, with armrests. He half expected it to rock slightly, but it remained still. He tugged down the straps, which were padded with more sheepskin, and clicked them into place.

"Comfortable?" Amelia queried, giving the straps a firm tug. "You're set. The seat's got a warming spell on it, 'cause it gets cold up there."

She walked the foot or so back to her own seat and got buckled up. "Everything's A-okay, Captain."

Fireflash craned his head around and drew in a lungful of air. "I'm going to breathe on you now, so don't be frightened. It's a rarified air spell, so you won't get dizzy or sick at the altitude I'll be flying. Otherwise you'd have to swallow an altitude potion and they make you sick as a dog afterwards, right Potions Master?"

"Yes, they're no fun to take, your stomach hurts for days afterward. It's the ground firebird talon. Our systems can't tolerate it well," Severus agreed.

"You won't have to worry about that here. My mist breath might make you a little drowsy, but otherwise it doesn't have any side effects that I know of. Too bad I couldn't slip that Hamilton brat an altitude potion in her drink next flight," Fireflash muttered. "Serve her right if it gave her a stomachache, she's enough to give me an ulcer."

"I could make you up some if you want. No trouble at all," Snape offered wickedly.

"Thanks, but I can't. Professional ethics, you understand. The chief'd fire me for sure if he ever found out I slipped his precious darling a Mickey Finn, no matter how much she might deserve it," the dragon said regretfully. "Ready?"

The two wizards nodded. The bronze inhaled, his nostrils flaring wide, his eyes narrowed slightly. Then he exhaled sharply, almost like a sneeze, and fine particles of purple mist shot out of his mouth and drifted over his passengers.

"Breathe deeply now. Good," he rumbled.

Severus' nose twitched and for one instant he nearly sneezed. The purple mist felt icy when he breathed it, it smelled like wintergreen. He felt slightly sleepy and yawned once, but otherwise the mist didn't feel uncomfortable. It was a hell of a lot better than the altitude potion, which always left you feeling like you'd been kicked in the gut by an ostrich.

"All set?" Fireflash called back. "Here we go."

He reared back on his haunches, his huge wings opening wide. He beat them hard against the updraft, then launched himself into the air in one tremendous leap.

Snape felt the wind whistle past his ears and tug at him, but the straps held him firmly in place and he was not frightened. The take-off was a smooth as if he'd been riding a broom.

Between the warming spell, his sweater, pants and insulated boots and gloves, he was quite toasty, just as if he were sitting in front of a fire in his den.

He gazed about him as they shot upward through the first layer of clouds and emerged in the sun-drenched lower stratosphere, an endless expanse of blue bordered by spun-sugar clouds. It fairly took his breath away.

Flying on dragonback was incredible, much better than a broomstick.

"How ya doin' back there, kids?" Fireflash roared, loud enough to be heard over the wind kicked up by his wings.

"Great!" Amelia yelled back. "Severus, you okay?"

"Never better!" He shouted, a Cheshire cat grin on his face. "This is fantastic!"

Fireflash chuckled. "You ain't seen nothing yet, kid. I haven't even started to go at top speed yet."

"How fast can you fly?" Snape shouted.

"Faster than a jet, if I have to. But that's only if I was flying trans-Atlantic. Today I'm only going to fly about two hundred miles per hour, or as near to that as I can."

Severus whistled. "Let's do it."

"Hang on," the dragon warned, then stretched out his neck and tail. His wings began to beat faster and faster, until they were mere blurs.

Snape blinked tears out of his eyes, able to see only bright flashes of dragon hide beneath him and streaks of blue and white, they were flying so unbelievably fast. He let out a yell of exultation, causing the dragon and Amelia to look at him worriedly.

"You all right, Sev?"

"Fine. This is the best thing in the world."

"That's why I'm glad I was born a dragon," Fireflash laughed.

Right then, Snape wished he'd been born a dragon too, if it meant being able to fly like this whenever he wished.

"Isn't it fantastic?" Amelia cried, laughing delightedly.

He could feel waves of exuberance coming off her, for in her excitement she had lowered her shields slightly and was projecting her emotions into his mind. "This is why he can command top prices for his flights when he's not working cases with me," she told the other wizard.

"Not surprising. I'd pay almost any amount for this."

"It gets better," the bronze informed him. "How about a little music to go along with your flight?"

"Why not?" Snape wondered if the dragon had a mini band tucked into a scale or something. It wouldn't have surprised him at all.

"You ever heard of the Air Force song? You know, "Off we Go into the Wild Blue Yonder?" the dragon asked him.

"Uh, no."

"Ah, then you're in for a treat, kid, that's my best one." Fireflash cleared his throat. "I'm no Gilbert and Sullivan, but I'm not bad."

Severus didn't know who they were, since he wasn't up on American music culture, but he didn't care.

Soon they were flying along to Fireflash's enthusiastic rendition of the U. S. Air Force theme song.

The bronze's voice was a deep bass, note-perfect, and very soothing to listen to. After that he sang _"Volare_" in Italian, sounding remarkably like Luciano Pavarotti.

"He knows every song ever written about flying, wizard and Muggle," Amelia said. "He sang them all to me on the way here. In flight entertainment, he calls it."

"He's pretty good. Better than half the bands we used to have play at school. Some of those sounded like cats being tortured," Snape recalled with a wince. "At least he can carry a tune."

The dragon stopped singing and peered at his passengers. "You two awake back there?" After receiving affirmatives, Fireflash asked, "Want me to do some loops and spirals?"

"Loops and spirals?" Snape repeated.

"Yeah, like they do at the air shows. Tricks." Fireflash coughed slightly. "Are you afraid of going upside down, Severus?"

"I'm not fond of it, but I'm not terrified either."

Fireflash grinned evilly. "I hope you didn't eat too much for breakfast, kid."

"Not a thing."

"Good, then I won't have to worry about you puking. The smell takes weeks to get off my scales." He began to climb again, gaining the altitude necessary to perform his first maneuver.

"And now . . .get ready to experience the ultimate in flying thrills and chills, Fireflash's Amazing Aerial Spinning Spiral!" the bronze announced, just before he pumped his wings twice and did a sudden dip and roll to the left.

Severus felt his stomach do a sudden lurch, and he was very grateful Amelia had warned him about Fireflash's love of aerial acrobatics, otherwise he would have died of embarrassment.

Fireflash curved his body into an arc and coasted down in a spiral that left his passengers gasping for breath at the sheer speed and velocity of the turns.

Snape found himself laughing in amazement along with Amelia.

"Way to go, Fireflash!" they shrieked, screaming in pure excitement.

"Nice one, right? How about this?"

"Sev, close your eyes!" Amelia warned.

"Why?"

"Just do it!"

He obeyed.

A second later Fireflash broke out of his spiral, ducked his head, and flipped over, doing a series of 180 degree loops across the sky.  
It was indescribable.

"Bloody _hell,_ dragon!" Snape howled. "That was—I don't even have words to describe what that felt like."

"Too much for ya, kid?"

"You wish. Let's do it again."

Fireflash threw back his head and bellowed with laughter. "That's the spirit, Sevvy boy! I really _like_ this guy, Amelia baby. He's got the heart of a bronze dragon. Keep this one, ya hear?"

"Will do, sir."

"Okay. One more time." Fireflash exhaled sharply, then dipped his wings, preparing for another spiral.

Snape felt his pulse quicken in anticipation. This was the sort of joy he should have known as a child but never had, a wild exhilaration that sparkled through his blood in a hot rush.

He felt the black shadow on his soul cringe away into the dark, unable to withstand the happiness welling up within him, allowing him to soar freely upon the wings of the dawn with two of his best friends in all the world. Forever after he would recall that moment, that wonderful magical flight on the back of a bronze dragon, the wind incarnate.

**Reviews keep the author sane, so please leave some!**


	6. Dreamwalk

**Dreamwalk**

﻿**A/N the dreamwalk spell and draco inferio spells are my own creation**

Amelia Amarotti's scream echoed through the tiny house, causing Severus to drop  
the crucible with the healing salve he'd been decanting. Thick blue liquid splattered all over the floor of his lab, and the crucible smacked loudly onto the flagstones. He swore softly, not at the mess, which didn't concern him all that much, but at the fact that the woman he loved was still tormented by the dark wizard she'd killed, a man called Kittrick Slade.

_Another nightmare_, he thought darkly, bolting up the stairs, nearly sending himself sprawling as his foot caught on the rickety third stair. _Damn! Been meaning to fix that_.

He sprang up the last two stairs, dashed down the hallway, then took a right into the den. Their bedroom was just off the den, she'd fallen asleep waiting for him to come to bed, he'd been working late on a new healing potion, one to cure burns caused by dragonfire.

He'd almost had it finished when he'd heard Amelia scream. That didn't matter now either. All that mattered now was Amelia.

He yanked open the door to the bedroom. It was dark, though the moonlight streaming in the window illuminated the restless thrashing figure in the double bed.

"Lumos!" Snape hissed and the tip of his wand lit up.

He quickly lit the lamps on the side of the bed, then went to the whimpering Dark Hunter, took her by the shoulders and shook her sharply.

"Amelia! Wake up! Right now!" he made his voice harsh, nasty, even though he hated himself for using that tone on her. But he'd learned the hard way that the only way she could escape the nightmare was if he was stern and unbending as iron. Sweet and gentle got nowhere.

She jerked in his arms like a puppet on a string. Her eyes opened wide, staring at something only she could see. Slowly, she blinked.

"Amelia, look at me!" he ordered. "Come back to me!"

She gasped, then woke, gazing at him, trembling with shock, like a lost child. "Oh God, Sev! It was_ him_, he was there in my head. I couldn't get him out of my mind, I can still feel him there, he won't leave!"

"Shhh. You're okay. It was a dream, just a dream," he soothed, drawing her into his arms. "He's dead, remember? You sent him down to hell and he can't hurt you or anyone else ever again."

She buried her face in his shirt, her shoulders heaving with suppressed sobs. "I think he came _back_ from hell, Severus. He's haunting me, I swear it. Every night I dream of him, I can't get rid of him, he's always in the back of my head. Help me, Sev, please! I  
can't take this anymore."

"Neither can I," he heaved a sigh. "Amelia, love, there's only one way I can help you. You've got to let me inside your head, so I can walk through the dream with you. I know it's hard, but you've got to trust me."

"I do. I do. But I'm so ashamed . . .I'm letting a ghost and a memory terrify me. . ." she sniffled.

"Hey, we've all got our own personal demons, isn't that what you keep telling me? Slade's yours, my father's mine, one of them anyway . . .You know I'll never pry into your thoughts without your permission, I've got more control than that," he murmured, stroking her back over and over. "Come on, sweetheart. Drop your shields  
and let me in, won't you?"

"Okay." The word trembled off her lips, she was shaky but still defiant. Her blue eyes met his dark ones.

He hated seeing her so vulnerable, her confidence battered to pieces, scared and weeping like a little child afraid of the dark. Or what lived in the dark, which was ultimately more horrifying. There was good reason for her to be scared, as he knew all too well, for she had looked upon the face of real nightmares. Those who  
have seen the face of evil are forever scarred by it.

The way she was looking at him now reminded him of his mother, Eileen Prince Snape. Amelia had that same pleading helpless look in her eyes, he could recall the exact stare on his mother after one of Tobias' rages.

It had always made him feel like crying, yet at the same time angry that he could do nothing to drive away the monster that was hurting her.

Except this time he could, he reminded himself. He knew how to fight back now, to drive the monster Slade away for good and all.

All he had to do was take a walk with Amelia through her own private hell. Face what you fear and it loses power over you. That was a truth any good Auror knew.

But saying it and doing it were two different things.

This was the first time she'd actually agreed to let him inside her mind, despite the nightmares' increasing frequency. Like him, she valued her independence and privacy, at first she'd refused to even admit she couldn't deal with the dreams on her own. Six nights straight of screaming herself hoarse and crying herself to sleep in his  
arms had finally cracked her stubborn pride.

"Breathe with me now, Amy," he urged, taking one deep breath and then exhaling slowly for a count of ten. He did that four more times, until her breathing was back to normal, not the panicked gasps of a hunted animal. "Good, very good. Now breathe in and hold for a count of three. One. Two. Three. Exhale. Again."

Slowly he coaxed her into the meditative trance so crucial to his  
dreamwalking spell.

This was very advanced magic, a non-verbal wandless spell that required the deepest concentration and commitment by the caster. Only a wizard skilled in mind disciplines such as Occlumency and Legilimency could even attempt to cast it. Not only did it require discipline over mind and emotions, it also made one vulnerable to  
being read by the person the spell was cast on. There was no way to  
avoid it, in order to walk another's memories and help he or she  
overcome them, you had to open your own mind in turn.

That was why it was used so infrequently and only in the direst circumstances. Such as this one, when all other Memory Charms had failed.

_You're crazy, Snape_, a part of his mind—the selfish  
part—hissed. _If you cast dreamwalk she'll be able to see all of your  
secrets, every awful thing you've ever done, including betraying Lily  
to her enemies._

So what? he snarled back. _Maybe I'm tired of hiding my past from her, maybe she ought to know the truth about the real Severus Snape, so then she can decide once and for all if she truly loves **me**, all of me, good and bad. _This was the only way to break the vicious cycle Amelia was suffering through, and if the risks were great, so too was the reward. My _whole life has been one risk after another. Might as well make it count, Snape. Faint heart ne'er won fair lady. _  
With that, he centered himself, and looked deep into her aqua eyes, falling down an endless black tunnel, merging his thoughts with hers . . .

Only to emerge on a deserted street somewhere in rural Virginia, where reports from the DHIA (Dark Hunter Intelligence Agency) had placed the latest sighting of the dark wizard Kittrick Slade, who called himself the Black Widow.

Over twenty deaths were attributed to him, his preferred victims were women and children, usually between five and twenty-six. He made no distinction between Muggle and wizard, slaying both without discrimination. An equal opportunity murderer.

He liked to play with his prey before he killed, often torturing the mother in front of the child, or vice versa. He enjoyed blood and pain, it gave him a rush like no other.

The files on his victims told Amelia the methods and time of death, but nothing could prepare her for actually touching Slade's mind, immersing herself in his twisted soul so she could track him down.

The feel of his mind on hers was nauseating, like stepping into a vat of untreated sewage naked. His emotions were murky, covered with black scum, the cold satisfaction of a remorseless killer rejoicing in his own cleverness, and reveling in the agony of his victims.  
She recalled little Viola Johnson, just turned seven, one of his  
early victims, and was immediately assaulted by the image of Slade hurting her.

Worse even than the blood-drenched memory was the _feeling _that came with it—the sick satisfaction of having snared another victim, the pleasure her screams evoked . . .

She'd thrown herself out of the link, revolted to the core of her being, and ended up on her knees on the side of the road, retching up her toenails.

_Oh good God, I can't do this. I really can't. I was only feeling him for a few seconds and it's made me so sick . . ._Tears streamed down her face and she fought to keep from vomiting again.

_I can't do this_.

_But I have to. I **have** to. For all those poor kids and their moms, all their families, who'll never get to see them grow up, graduate, grow old together. I HAVE to do this. I'm the only one who can. _  
She was a Dark Hunter, it was her job to catch monsters like Slade and bring them to justice, or a swift death, whichever came first. She sensed that Slade would never submit to the indignity of a prison sentence, he'd prefer to fight to the death. And death was what he would have when she faced him at last,  
she vowed. He deserved Inferio—Fireball—at the very least. But first she must find him and the only way to defeat his masking spells was with her empathic talent.

The very darkness of his emotions and their coldness made it child's play for one of her power to track him, it was like waving a red flag  
in front of a bull. It was accustoming herself to his awful touch that was hard.

Twice more she attempted to cast her mind forth, empathically seeking him. Twice more her mind brushed his and she flinched away, unable to make contact.

_Stop it, dammit! You have to do this, now quit whining and just do it! Are you a Dark Hunter or a coward crybaby? _The third time she succeeded, urged on by her stinging mental scorn. The dark slimy muck of Slade's feelings oozed over into her mind, but this time she was prepared and she gritted her teeth mentally and hung on.

_Where are you, you psycho? Show me where you are, what you're planning. _  
She couldn't get a whole picture, only fragments, but she could sense he was wary, and worried about police coming from the west. He was far away from her at this time, perhaps in the mountains, but she could find him.

Over the next few days she touched Slade's mind many times, so delicately he never knew he was being spied on. Gradually it became a little easier, though the initial contact still made her shudder and feel ill. But that was nothing compared to what  
those women and children had endured.

_No one heard them scream, except that maniac. But I swear they'll be remembered, if I have to build their memorial with my own two hands. _  
She chased him through Virginia and Maryland, at last bringing him to bay in Pennsylvania, in a deserted farmhouse that had once belonged to some Amish people. His latest victim was also there, and she was final witness to the fact that Hunter Amarotti followed procedure to the letter, telling him who she was and demanding he surrender to the U.S.M.A. (United States Magical Association) on  
charges of murder, torture, and the use of forbidden magic. He had snarled a string of profanity at her that had ended with, "Crucio!"

She'd blocked it, sensing it was coming through the link, and responded with, "Draco Inferio!"—Dragonfire—an offensive spell that Fireflash, her former partner, had showed her.

He'd not been expecting that—or her. He'd grown overconfident and arrogant, convinced that his concealment spells and charms were all he needed to avoid the Dark Hunters. Having Hunter Amarotti appear in that farmhouse really shook him up. Then she blocked the most powerful spell in his arsenal and cast one he'd  
never heard of, much less learned the countercharm to.

_Draco Inferio_ worked as quickly as Fireflash had said it would. She'd pointed her finger, said two words and let her rage at what he was and had done, both to her and others, power the spell.

A burst of bluish-gold fire erupted from her finger and hit him squarely in the face. He'd gone up like a firework at the Fourth of July.

It was quick, a better death than the others he'd dealt. Yet his dying scream still haunted her. As did what she had seen and felt in his twisted mind.

Chief Hamilton had been sympathetic when she'd explained to him about the nightmares and flashbacks, he'd recommended some counseling, which she'd gone to dutifully. But Analyst McGraw hadn't been able to help her, his Memory Charm had failed, and he couldn't comprehend the depth of the evil she'd touched. Within a  
month the nightmares were back, worse than ever.

This time they'd begun to seriously affect her job performance, she wasn't sleeping and in her exhausted state she screwed up an easy collar. End result, the chief pulled her from active duty, put her on sabbatical medical leave. "Until you straighten out your head, Amarotti. I'm real sorry, I know that Slade was enough to make anyone nuts, and we're all grateful to you for putting him on ice, but I think it's time for you to take a long vacation. Why don't you go to Britain, I hear Scotland's beautiful this time of year, relax, have fun, and forget about all of this?"

"Yes, sir. That sounds like good advice, sir," she answered, gritting her teeth so hard she was surprised they didn't fall out. _You just don't get it, do you? I can't just **forget **about Slade, not when I've been living in his head for over three weeks. Dead or not, a part of him still lingers and it's driving me mad._

Everyone thinks all I have to do is forget, but they're wrong. Nobody understands what kind of hell he put me through, what it did to me. It marked me somehow and I'm scared to death to find out it's permanent, and I don't want to relive all of those awful memories again, even if it's the only way I'll ever be free of them. All I want is to find a quiet place to rest, somewhere peaceful, where I can hide and be safe.   
"Only you'll never be safe or at peace until you confront what you fear, Amelia  
Amarotti," Severus intoned sternly, appearing at her elbow. "You know that as well as I do."

"What? Sev, is that you? What the blazes are you doing here?"

"Helping you." He held out a hand. "Come with me. Let's take a look at what's scaring you about those dreams."

"Memories."

"Semantics." He waved a hand dismissively. "Let's go. It's time to lay Slade's ghost to rest once and for all."

She shrank from him, a look of abject terror on her face. "No! You want me to go back. I can't, please don't make me, Sev! You don't want to see what I saw, feel the things I felt. You can't understand . . ."

"But I can. I grew up with an abusive monster, I watched him hurt my mother and she watched him hurt me, day after day, just like those victims of Slade's. I knew acquaintances at school who were cruel vicious beasts who loved using curses and hexes to torture the innocent and like you I was helpless to prevent it. I know what it's  
like to live in hell, Amelia, nobody knows better." He grabbed her arm, holding her fast. "Come with me now and we'll walk through those memories together and I'll lead you out safely to the other side. Nothing will hurt you so long as I'm there. Nothing ever. Trust me. Face your fear and you vanquish it."

"I know. But I _can't do this_, not now, Severus!" she tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip.

"Now's the best time. Quit fighting me."

"Let me go, damn you! I'm not ready. Please, Severus, don't make me go back there." Tears were streaming down her face.

"You have to, it's the only way."

"No! If you love me, Severus Snape, don't make me! Please!"

"Sorry." It cost him everything he had not to give into her, but he clenched his jaw and turned a deaf ear to her heartrending pleas.

"You can't run away any more. That's not an option. I love you too damn much to let this rule you."

"No, you don't. That's a bloody _lie!"_ she raged.

"You know it's not. You're probably going to hate me for this, but too bad." He set his jaw, then he snatched her up and tossed her over his shoulder. "Hell, _I'm _going to hate myself for this."

"NO! Don't take me there!" she beat on his shoulder in a frenzy. "Let me go, Snape, right now!"

"Can't. I'm really sorry but you need to see this."

Ignoring her wails he hauled her back through her mind, though she fought him every step of the way. She threw guilt and terror at him, and only his shields enabled him to block the onslaught. _Bloody hell, but she's so **strong**! She almost threw me out of her mind. Got to concentrate, Snape, can't let her get to you like that, but it's like  
holding onto a bloody dragon's tail. _The dreamscape shuddered, bucking and wavering as she attempted to wrest it from him. He projected calm and love at her for all he was worth. _Stop it, I'm trying to help you! Trust me. _  
In the end his will prevailed, bolstered by determination and love, and because a part of her had agreed to this, he was able to return with her to the scene of her first encounter with Slade's mind.

Once again, she relived that moment, in all of its shame and terror.

"You see? I was going to give up, I was going to let him walk, because I was too much of a coward to touch his mind."

"But you didn't. You endured and you went after him. You chose right in the end."

"But I hesitated. Dark Hunters should _never_ hesitate."

"Where's that written?" he sneered. "Pretty lame excuse. So you were scared. Big deal. So's everyone. But you didn't let it stop you."

"I almost did. It cost me time finding him."

"Almost doesn't count. Quit wallowing in guilt, Amarotti. An hour more less wouldn't have changed anything. Come on, there's lots more to see."

He pulled her onward.

Together they went back through all of her memories, each and every one that Slade had tainted with his presence. He forced her to confront them, goading her with a combination of razor sarcasm and iron-hard truth, making her look into the face of the beast and then move on. The wrong was Slade's, not hers, she should not feel guilt  
for what he had done or felt. "You can't save everyone, Amarotti. Be glad you did what you could."

It was horrible, it hurt like hell, but it had to be done. Self- doubt was crippling her, eating her alive. It would finish her as a Dark Hunter if it kept up much longer. And they needed her too badly to lose her now.

Thus he bullied her, driving her to exorcise her demons, battling alongside her to lessen the impact Slade's evil had upon her soul. He knew exactly how it felt, as he'd gone through the same thing with Dumbledore, a day after making the Unbreakable Vow.

Dumbledore had resurrected the ghosts of his childhood and adolescence, things he had buried in the deepest darkest hole in his mind, and had made him face them.

In that way he would be less vulnerable to Voldemort, better able to withstand him should he return and manage to come prowling into Snape's memories, there would be less trauma for The Dark Wizard to use against the younger wizard.

"Insurance," Dumbledore had called it. "A necessary evil."

"Damn bloody sadist," was what he'd called the older magician, after one particularly nasty session left him curled up on the office floor, crying uncontrollably like the seven-year-old he'd been.

Dumbledore had said much the same thing Snape had to Amelia, "Sorry, but it's for your own good, you can hate me all you want, but it won't stop me."

Though not even Dumbledore dared to explore the more recent past just yet, sensing the younger man had dealt with enough just confronting the terrors of his childhood, any more and he might snap.

He left that for another time, when the wounds made by reopening these particular memories had healed fully.

Snape had said afterwards that he never would have figured Dumbledore to have guts enough to take him apart like that and then put him back together.

Dumbledore had laughed, not unkindly, and replied, "I'm not always the kind, doddering, innocent old man I seem, Severus."

Then he'd taught Snape the dreamwalk spell, saying one never knew when it might come in handy.

Sometimes Snape wondered if the Headmaster wasn't a Seer as well as the strongest wizard in the world. Either way, those sessions had left him with a great deal of respect for the elder wizard, more than he'd ever had for his own father.

But more importantly, he'd learned from Dumbledore how to help Amelia. They were at the final scene, the battle between Slade and Amelia. She cast the Draco Inferio spell, Slade died.

"I shouldn't have used that spell," she lamented.

"Would you have preferred Avada Kedavra then?"

"No. I should have strangled the scumbag with my bare hands.  
Then he would have known the meaning of true agony."

"Oh, but he does," Snape assured her. "Whatever hell took him in, I'm sure he's suffering the same way he made his victims suffer. Including you."

"Me? I wasn't one of his victims. They're all dead, except that last woman."

"I'd say you were a casualty of war too, my dear. What we just did was nothing to sneer at. Only a handful of wizards would have been able to walk your mind and deal with what waited there. But now it's done and over with."

He set her back on her feet. They were back where they'd started, on that deserted Virginia road, only this time there was no sense of danger or foreboding.

"I suppose I should thank you for that, Sev, but all I want to do is slug you in the jaw."

"I felt the same way after Dumbledore did it to me," he admitted candidly.

Her eyes narrowed. "But he didn't finish the job. You still have a shadow hovering over you."

He grimaced. "I know. It's not something I'm proud of."

"Let me help you the way you did me."

"Uh, no. I'd rather not," he said quickly, backing away.

"Too damn bad," she growled. Then she grabbed his hand. "What was it you said to me, Mr. Snape? Now's the best time. Let's take a walk, Severus."

"You aren't going to like what you find there. There are things in my past I've never told you," he warned, feeling his stomach clench.

"Like I wanted _you _to see what really happened to me, Sev? I'm an empath, my love. The deepest darkest secrets of the human soul are no stranger to me, not after Slade. And if I can face his, I can face yours too. Trust me."

"Oh, hell. Might as well get it over with," he grumbled sourly. "Just remember, I _did _warn you, Amelia."

"I love you, I really do, but you need to see this. Let's go, Severus."

She tugged him into another misty gray tunnel, and he followed reluctantly, like a sulky child dreading a beating.

"So now you know the truth. All of it. What do you think now, Amelia Amarotti?" Snape demanded, his lip curling into what would become a trademark sneer of disgust. "Am I worth saving, former Death Eater that I am? Can you love a man who was tempted into darkness?"

"I can. Because that man had the courage to walk away. All of us have flirted with darkness at one point or another. Few of us ever act on it. Fewer still travel the dark road and choose to leave it, never to return. Given the life you had, it's a miracle you chose to come back to the light."

"Love brought me back."

"Yes. Your love for Lily."

Snape shook his head vehemently. "No. Not Lily. **You**, Amelia. I felt guilt and remorse over her death, and it was that which led me to Dumbledore. But what I felt for Lily was puppy love, a silly schoolboy crush. I know that now. It was but a shadow of what  
I feel for you. Regret and remorse started me down the path to redemption,Dumbledore gave me a purpose to strive for, but you're what made me walk the rest of the way into the light again. Only you and no one else. You're the very best thing in my life, Amelia."

"As you are to me. You don't have to be perfect, I'll love you anyway. Now don't you think it's time you forgave yourself, Severus Snape, so you can get on with your life? I'm starting to get impatient."

"All right. I made a mistake, but I forgive myself for it. Let the past remain in the past, it has no power over me. There! It's done," he declared softly, feeling the tremendous weight of guilt tear free of his soul. For the first time in over five years he was free of the dark taint.

He looked at Amelia and smiled, tears trickling down his face. "This is the real Severus Snape. Thank you so much. Now let's go home. A gentleman never keeps a lady waiting."

He clasped her hand in his own and together they walked back from dreams into reality once more. This time no shadows haunted their footsteps.

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	7. Something Good

**Something Good**

﻿It was about a week after the casting of the dreamwalk spell, and Amelia was sipping a cup of Yorkshire Gold while perusing the entertainment section of The London Times. It was around midmorning, but she was still in her nightshirt, a bright pink affair with the words _Clap Your Hands if You Believe in Fairies _emblazoned in glittering letters across it. Her feet were encased in a pair of fluffy pink socks, she claimed London was too damp even in May to go about barefoot.

Severus sat opposite her, wearing casual beige slacks and a long-sleeved emerald shirt, nibbling on a second piece of toast and drinking his own cup of tea. "That's a Muggle paper."

"I know. I like to read them sometimes." She turned a page. "Oh, listen to this! The Sound of Music is playing at the theater. I saw it when I was a kid and I loved it."

"Never heard of it."

"Well, it's an American musical. It won tons of awards on Broadway, they even made it into a movie. Why don't we go and see it? I haven't gone to a play in a long time."

"Amelia, I don't like that kind of thing," he rolled his eyes. "All that singing and dancing, ugh!"

"Come on, Sev. It's not all singing and dancing. It's got a real good storyline, about a nun and a naval captain who fall in love in Austria during World War II."

"A nun and a captain? What kind of romantic nonsense is that?" Snape snorted.

"The same kind of 'romantic nonsense' that brought us together, Severus dear." Amelia frowned, shooting him a look over the top of the paper. "They've got a song during the production I really want you to hear. It reminds me of you."

"A Muggle song reminds you of me?" he repeated, utter disbelief flitting over his face.

"Uh-huh. You'll see what I mean when you hear it. You need to get out of the house, before you start to grow mold, spending all your time in your lab, experimenting. It'll be fun."

"It'll be fun, she says. The way shoe shopping is fun? I'd rather be bitten by a werewolf!"

"Oh, quit complaining," she scolded, swatting him on the head with the paper. "Men! You're never happy unless you're grumbling."

"Is that so?" Severus arched an eyebrow. "You women have it down to an art form. It's called nagging, among other things."

"Humor me, Sev. You know what they say—theater broadens the mind."

"That's _travel _broadens the mind," he corrected, smirking.

"Beg pardon, Professor, sorry I'm not up on all those modern expressions," she said tartly. "We can't all be walking encyclopedias like you. The show starts at two o'clock, and the tickets aren't expensive, about 15 in American money each."

"You _really _want to see this stupid show?"

"Yes, Potions Master. Like I said, it'll be fun."

"Fine. We can go. Happy now?"

"Over the moon. I love you, Sev," she gave him a kiss.

"The things I do for you," he muttered, then kissed her back.

To his surprise, he actually liked the play, despite all the musical numbers. The story was interesting and so were the characters. He even liked the seven bratty children as the show went on, though the pranks they played on their governess made him shudder.

_Is this what I have to look forward to as a teacher? Little beasts putting snakes and  
spiders in my desk, pinecones on my chair, and casting annoying hexes on me and all that bloody nonsense? Bloody damn hell! Maybe Dumbledore ought to look for another teacher. _  
The rest of the play was quite good, however, and he especially liked the scene in the gazebo after Maria returns to Captain Von Trapp. It was a classic love scene, but the song they sang was anything but.

It was called "Something Good" and the words caught his attention immediately.

He sat bolt upright in his seat, the lyrics repeating themselves over and over in his head. _Merlin's Beard, she was right. This song—it could have been written for me. For us_. He shot her a startled look.

She grinned knowingly and nudged him in the ribs. "What did I tell you? Whoever wrote that song knew someone very like you."

"How disappointing," he drawled. "Here I thought I was unique."

"You _are _unique, Sev," she whispered in his ear. "There's not another wizard in the world who can do what you can. That's why I love you, impossible man."

He gave her a crooked smile. "You're the amazing one, not me. Now hush, I want to see what happens next, and if we keep talking like this, they're going to throw us out."

The final curtain came down and everyone applauded, even Snape.

"Well? Was it worth three hours of your time?" Amelia asked as they made their way outside.

"I liked it. It was very well done, the actors were first rate," he conceded. "They could have had better sets, but we're dealing with Muggles here, not wizards, so I guess they did the best they could with their limited abilities."

She smacked him lightly on the shoulder. "Quit being such a snob. You're a half-blood yourself, why do you insist on acting like a pureblood bigot? Simply because we're wizards doesn't mean we're the be-all and end-all of creation. _We're_ human too."

"American equality strikes again," he said with a rueful chuckle. "My apologies. I was conditioned as a teenager and sometimes I slip back into my old habits. You're absolutely right. Muggle or wizard, we all share the same earth."

They passed a concession stand selling popcorn, peanuts, and hot dogs.

Amelia sniffed appreciatively. "I'm starving all of a sudden. How about you?"

"I could eat a bit. Where would you like to eat? The Dragon and the George is a decent restaurant," he suggested, naming a popular eating establishment in the wizarding community. "Or do you want me to cook something? I've got a new chili recipe we could try."

"Why don't we eat at a Muggle restaurant?" she offered, a gleam of challenge in her eyes. "Live a little, huh?"

Severus considered. "I don't know. I haven't eaten at a Muggle restaurant since I was a little kid. Back then all we could afford was McDonalds."

"We're not eating McDonalds," she told him firmly. "Fast food's no good for you. I'm talking about food for decent people. Hmmm . . .what's around here?"

She glanced up and down the street, spotting several small cafes, a deli, and a fish and chips bar.

"Not quite what I had in mind. C'mon, let's walk a bit further. They've got to have a good restaurant around here, all those theater types know how to eat well."

"How do you know so much?"

"About theater people? Used to date one awhile back. It didn't work out, he was too obsessed with his career. Thought he was Laurence Olivier reincarnated. But he did teach me about classy restaurants."

In the end they found an Italian place that seemed very popular called Villagios. They ordered iced teas and fried calamari as an appetizer.

"What_ is_ this?" Snape wanted to know, sniffing one of the crispy rings.

"Eat it first, then I'll tell you."

He frowned suspiciously. "Is this a joke of some kind?"

"No. It's really good, an Italian specialty," Amelia said, munching on one. "Just eat it, Sev. It won't kill you."

"That's nice to know." He smelled it again. "It smells good." He popped one in his mouth, chewed experimentally. "Hey, this _is_ good." He picked up some more and ate them.

"Try some with marinara sauce," she indicated the bowl next to the calamari.

He did, and liked the taste even better. Amelia watched in amusement as he devoured half the plate.

"Okay. Now tell me, what is this stuff?"

"You_ sure_ you want to know?"

"Amelia, you're stalling. I've eaten plenty of strange things, you know. Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans, for instance."

"Right. It's, uh, squid. Swims in the ocean, you know. That's all. Squid rings dipped in batter and fried." She gave him a searching glance. "You're not going to throw up or anything, are you?"

"No. I thought you were going to say something worse, like worm larvae. Squid, that's not bad at all." To prove his point, he ate another piece.

For dinner they had lasagna and homemade ravioli. The food was very good, though Severus declared, "Your lasagna's better, Amy."

She beamed. "Aww. You're sweet, Sev."

"_Me?"_ Both eyebrows went up. "Only _you _would use that word to describe me, Amarotti. Sarcastic fits me better, according to popular opinion."

"Who pays attention to popular opinion? Not me. Never have and never will. You're sweet as sugar to me, and that's all I've got to say."

"You make me sound like a candy bar. Severus Sugarplum, or some other revolting name like that," he gave her a pained look. "I beg you, don't ever give me one of those cute nicknames like other girls give their boyfriends."

"You mean, like Sugarbaby?" she teased wickedly. He grimaced. "Or how about Honeypie? Or, even better, Sweetcakes!"

He choked. "Pin any of those awful titles on me, Amelia Angelface, and I'll sing in public and start a riot," he threatened.

"Okay. Okay." She held up her hands in surrender. "Can't you take a joke?" Then she snickered. "_Angelface_? Sev, that was really bad."

"So was Sweetcakes. That's a name for a fat Pekingnese, not a person."

She began to laugh, chuckling into her napkin.

"What's so funny?"

"You—how did—?" she gasped, unable to form a coherent sentence, she was laughing so hard.

"Amy, for Godsakes!" he hissed out of the corner of his mouth. "People are staring."

"Sorry. I couldn't help myself." She wiped her eyes with a napkin. "But that actually _was _the name of one of my Aunt Mariel's dogs. She bred teacup poodles."

"Teacup poodles? Sounds like a dessert, not a dog."

"They're called that because they can fit into a teacup. Rich old ladies love them."

"And they give them ridiculous names like Bonbon or Gumdrop, right? It's a wonder the poor dog can hold up its head after being humiliated like that."

"Why Severus, I never knew you were a dog lover."

"I'm not. I hate yappy dogs like that. But even I'd feel sorry for a dog named Petit Four."

"So would I," she signaled the waiter for the check. "Speaking of dogs, what would you say to getting one?"

"I _knew_ this was leading up to something," he groaned.

"You don't like dogs?"

"They're okay. In other people's houses, not mine."

"Didn't you have any pets when you were a kid?"

"My mother was allergic."

"But you're not. Are you?"

"No. As far as I know."

"A dog would be good company for you," she hinted. "Once I'm gone—"

"Whoa! Back up, Amarotti." He held up a hand. "I don't need or want a dog. Period, the end."

"Whyever not?" She handed the waiter some money, including a generous tip.

"Because I like our house just the way it is. Us alone in it. A dog is nothing but trouble."

"How would you know? You've never had one."

"And I don't want one either. They smell, they shed, and they pee all over everything."

"Only till they're housebroken," she argued.

"No dogs, Amarotti." He fixed her with one of his icy glares.

"Don't take that tone with me, Snape," she glared right back at him.

"Then stop being so damn unreasonable." He threw up his hands. "Why are we fighting over a dog we don't even have?"

"That's a woman for you, old chap!" laughed a man over at the next table, nursing a pint of beer. "They'll pick a fight with you over something that ain't even happened yet. If you ask me, the best way to handle Miss Spitfire there is with a good smack."

"I didn't," Snape said coldly, turning his head to shoot a furious glare at the other man.

"Hey, I was just trying to help."

"The day I take advice from a drunken lout like you will be on my deathbed. Mind your own bloody business," he growled.

"Now look here, you snarky git—" the other began, starting to get up from his chair.

Snape pinned him with a glacial glare that froze him in his tracks. "Don't finish that sentence. Just sit down and drink yourself senseless the way you always do," Severus sneered. "Your wife will thank you, I'm sure."

"Wot's that 'bout my wife?"

Snape spun on his heel and turned to leave, ignoring the other's question. "Let's go, Amelia. Before I lose my temper and give the jackass the beating he so richly deserves."

"Good idea," the Dark Hunter agreed. She cast a glance at the inebriated man, who was staring after her boyfriend with hatred in his eyes.

Smothering a sigh, Amelia wriggled her fingers at the large man and hissed a sleep charm. The other slumped over in his chair, to all appearances passed out.

Disaster averted, she hurried after Snape, who was still seething at the man's words to him. "The nerve of that bloody baboon, telling me I ought to hit you! I should go back there and give him a good lesson in manners, the miserable beast. Someone should have beaten him senseless years ago, just like someone ought've my father. They're two of a kind!"

"Severus, calm down. There's no need for you to fly off the handle like this. He didn't do anything to me."

"Lucky for him, otherwise he'd be regretting it for the rest of his life. People like him ought to be locked up in a cell and chained to a wall like a vicious animal, for that's what they are."

He strode angrily down the sidewalk, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists, his eyes smoldering. Pedestrians took one look at him and scattered.

"Sev! Wait up!"

He slowed, allowing her to catch up with him. "Sorry. But men like that make me want to curse them unto the tenth generation. Either that or truss him like a side of beef and let his wife beat him with a stick. He's just like my father."

She said nothing for the moment, sensing it was better to just let him walk off his temper.

At length, he spoke again. "I suppose you're going to tell me I overreacted. That you're perfectly capable of defending yourself, right?"

She laid a hand on his arm, projecting a wave of serenity at him, since an angry wizard was not a safe thing to be around, even though she knew he'd not unleash his temper on innocent bystanders.

"Not at all. I'd defend you to the death after what we've been through and I'd hope you'd do the same for me." She felt the tension go out of him, the tightness in his shoulders easing by degrees. "That one went looking for trouble, if you ask me, and trouble found him. I'm just sorry he ruined a perfectly good evening."

"Me too. But that stupid row we had didn't help any either," he admitted, tossing his hair out of his eyes. "Forgive me?"

"Always. And that wasn't much of a fight by Amarotti standards. In my house, you could tell a serious argument by volume, doors, and plates." He threw her a blank look. "How many curses in Italian, how many doors got slammed, and plates got broken against a wall," she elaborated.

"Oh." He didn't bother to add that in _his _house, you could tell a serious argument by the amount of bruises your father left on your mother's face or your own. Especially after he'd been drinking, like that stupid git back there.  
_  
I will **never** be like my father_, he vowed silently.

They'd reached the end of the street and turned left down a slightly less inhabited alley. He found himself humming a few notes of that song "Something Good" from the play. He caught Amelia's knowing grin just before he pulled out his wand and tapped it three times against the brick wall.

RAT-A-TAT-TAT-TAT.

The wall folded up silently and they stepped quickly through to the tunnel leading back to Diagon Alley, the shopping district of the wizarding world.

It was fairly quiet this time of night, most of the shopkeepers had closed up and gone home to eat supper with their families. The only illumination was from the street lamps lit with the Lumos spell.

"Shall we Apparate the rest of the way home?" Snape turned to Amelia.

She opened her mouth to reply when there came a sudden sound of glass shattering, followed by a pained yelp, and a shrill voice crying, "There! I think it ran that way!"

"What on earth was that?" Amelia hissed.

"Trouble," Snape answered, and headed toward the sound of running feet, wand out.

As he raced down the street, he noted a rock had broken a window near Eeylop's Owl Emporium, glass crunched under his shoes. He rounded the corner leading to Knockturn Alley, a seedy section of shops catering to illegal magics.

There came a thud, as of a blow striking flesh, another yelp, and more laughter.

"Let's see it again! That Leglock jinx is awesome!" a nasal voice whooped.

"Naw. That's not as good as the one that burned off all the fur on its tail," said another.

"I wanna see it dance again," whined a third voice. "Dance, you mangy cur, dance!"

"Let's set it on fire. Then it'll dance all right!"

Another thud. "Rats! Missed it!"

Livid, Snape shot down the alley, skidding to a halt just behind a circle of three boys. Alongside them were several large trash bins, overflowing with garbage and empty packing crates and other junk. The stench of spoiled food and rotten fruit was overwhelming.

Before them, in a sorry heap on the ground, was a scrawny half- starved black and tan stray dog. Blood flecked its face and paws where rocks had struck it and its tail was singed and red where a blistering hex had burned all the hair away. It lifted its head at  
Snape's approach and bared its teeth in token defiance at this new tormentor.

The three delinquent children never even heard him, they were too busy taunting the helpless animal, pelting it with garbage, more rocks, and the oldest pointed a wand at it, a nasty smirk on his face.

"Expelliarmus!"

The little brat's wand was blown out of his hand, flying down the alley, and the boy himself was sent crashing against the wall.

"Ow! Who did that?" he whimpered, rubbing the back of his head.

"I did," Snape said silkily, his voice low with menace. He reached out and grabbed the smaller two by their ears, twisting them hard. The kids yelled loudly and tried to squirm free.

"Ow! Leggo!"

"That hurts, you miserable bugger!"

"Severus, what's going on here?" Amelia appeared at the mouth of Knockturn Alley, hand lifted, the words to a stunning hex on her lips.

The battered dog whimpered pitifully and began to crawl towards her.

"Oh, the poor thing!" She crossed over to the dog and knelt beside it, gathering its head into her lap. The dog whined and licked her hand. "You nasty little brutes!" she snarled, glaring at the boys. "Severus, they were _torturing_ him!"

"We was just having a bit of fun with it, miss!" chortled one of the boys, a greasy tow-headed imp wearing shorts and a Chudley Cannons T-shirt.

"Fun? Like _this_?" Severus growled, and gave the boy's ear another pinch.

"Yeeow! Stop, you're gonna pull my ear off!"

"It'd be no more than you deserve, you rotten little brat. Does it amuse you then, to beat and abuse a helpless animal? Would you like me to do the same to you, you filthy monstrous brats?" He shook the two sharply, lifting them up by their collars to glare into their pale faces with eyes like burning coals. "_Would you_?"

"No, sir!" sniffled one, the youngest, a red-headed eight-year- old. "Please, please don't hurt me! I'll never do anything bad again, I swear!" he began to blubber, snot dripping from his nose. Snape sneered at him in disgust.

"If you hurt me, I'll tell my mum and dad!" the other boy blustered.

Snape grinned evilly. "By all means, boy, let's pay a visit to your parents, see what they think of their son roaming the streets at this hour, breaking windows and casting forbidden hexes on defenseless animals. D'you think your mum would be proud of her son when the Aurors come knocking at your door to drag you off to Azkaban?"

"Azkaban!" the boy cried, his bravado vanishing. "I don't wanna go there, the dementors eat your soul! My dad said so. I don't want a dementor to Kiss me!" He began to cry.

"Me neither!" sobbed the youngest.

"He's lying, you stupid idiots!" shouted the oldest. "They don't send kids to Azkaban. He can't do anything to us, he doesn't even know where we live."

"But _I_ do," came an icy voice from behind them. Amelia looked up from cataloging the dog's injuries, her eyes narrowed in concentration.

"The two you're holding are brothers, Jeremy and Thomas Thatcher. They live at 12 Cockleburr Lane, parents Linda and Jeremy Thatcher, Senior," she recited in a cold matter-of-fact tone.

The two brothers stared at her in horror. "H-how she do that? She knows who we are!"

"Shall I go on? Their friend over there is Gerald Tiberius Crouch, nephew of Bartemius Crouch, Senior who works for the Ministry of Magic."

"Crouch, eh?" Snape barked. "Wouldn't your uncle just love it, boy, if he found out you were continuing the family tradition of dark wizardry? Another criminal guaranteed a one-way trip to Azkaban just like your cousin Barty Junior!"

All the blood drained from the gloating twelve-year-old's face. "You can't tell Uncle Barty. He'll kill me! We were only playing. We didn't mean to hurt the dog, it was an accident," he whined.

"Don't lie to me, boy!" Amelia roared. "You meant every nasty cruel word of those hexes and we both know it. You're a spoiled wicked brat who enjoys bullying anything weaker than you. You'll end up in prison just like that cousin of yours if you're not careful. I'm a Dark Hunter, I send criminals like you there all the time." She eyed him coldly. "I can send you there too, if you don't shape up."

Gerald gulped sharply. "No! M-my cousin Barty died there."

"And so will you, the way you're going. Is that what you want, kid? To have a dementor suck out your soul?"

He shook his head frantically. "No! Please! I'm sorry, I'll never hurt anything again. Just don't tell Uncle Barty, please! He'd beat me for sure if he knew I was using magic outside of school."

"As well he should," Snape put in, raking the boy with a withering stare of contempt. "You're a disgrace to your families, all of you. If you were mine I'd horsewhip you till you begged for mercy." He released the Thatcher boys. "Go home, all of you, and pray we don't send an owl in the morning post to your doors. Go on, get! Before I call a dementor."

The three bolted, running as if the dementors were actually at their heels.

Snape trailed them a ways, making sure they weren't lurking in the vicinity. Not that he thought it likely, the boys had been scared good and proper and would probably go hide under their beds until morning. And spend the rest of their summer holidays praying their parents never got a letter informing them about the mischief their  
children had been up to that night.

He made a mental note to keep an eye on Gerald Crouch at Hogwarts, for the boy had been the ringleader and he'd been the one casting the hexes on the dog. Yes, he'd watch young Mr. Crouch like a hawk, because torturing animals was one of the first signs of a deviant depraved mind. His cousin had been one of Voldemort's most  
fanatical followers. _The last thing we need is another Barty Crouch Junior in the making. _  
He returned to Knockturn Alley, finding Amelia holding the dog in her arms, murmuring softly to it. "He's scared and in shock. We need to get him home."

"You sure about that? He looks all done in. Maybe we should call a Magical Creatures Healer."

"He looks worse than he is. I can heal him up as good as any vet."

"Want me to carry him? He's pretty big, for all he looks like a bag of bones."

"Thanks, but I've got him calmed down enough so he won't bite."

"Right. Let's get on home then," Severus said, and they vanished from the alley, Apparating onto the front porch a few minutes later.

Amelia carried the dog downstairs to Severus' lab, figuring it the best place to administer potions and mix up new ones.

She placed the dog on the Potion Master's stainless steel dissecting table and rolled up her sleeves. "I'm going to treat him for shock, but I need you to mix up a strong sleeping draft and it'd help if you had any burn salve handy."

Snape pointed his wand, and vials and powders started to upend themselves into his cauldron. Soon he had a sleeping draft brewed and decanted into a small glass beaker.

Meanwhile, Amelia had laid her hands on the emaciated dog's chest and murmured a spell to combat shock and dehydration. A blue glow spread from her hands over the dog, causing the fur on his back to stand up.

Severus measured out more ingredients for the burn salve and set it simmering. Then he approached the dog, sleeping draft in hand.

The dog whined and tried to scramble off the table.

"Easy, fellow," Amelia crooned, stroking the dog's head. "Sev won't hurt you, he's got something to make you feel better."

Snape's nose wrinkled. "God, but he stinks! And I think I saw fleas crawling on him."

"What do you expect, he's a stray," Amelia said. "We'll worry about that later."

"Hold him still," Severus ordered, extending a hand towards the dog's muzzle.

The dog snarled softly.

"Let him smell you first." She clasped the dog firmly, pressing him down on the table. "Behave now. Severus is a friend."

The dog sniffed Snape's fingers warily. "Good boy. Talk to him, Sev."

"Nice dog. Swallow this and don't give me a hard time."

Then he moved quickly and caught the dog's head in the crook of his arm.

The animal whined and struggled, his nails scraping across the table. "Be still, damn you!" Snape snapped. He went to grasp the dog's lower jaw and the frightened animal snapped at him.

He jerked his hand away just in time. "Bite me, will you, you ungrateful wretch!"

"Sev, he didn't mean it," Amelia cried. She projected a wave of soothing warmth and calm into the dog's mind. The dog quit struggling. "Okay, he'll be good for you now."

"He'd better. I'm not risking my fingers for some crazy mutt," Snape growled, eyeing the dog balefully. But his hand was gentle as he pried the dog's jaws apart. "Good dog. Now swallow this."

He gently tipped the beaker and let the draft flow down the dog's throat. "Nice and easy. There you go." He carefully massaged the dog's throat, making sure the animal swallowed.

"He should start feeling the effects in a few minutes," Severus said, releasing the dog's head.

The dog shook his head, his tongue coming out to lick his nose. Then he yawned, displaying large fangs. The brown eyes drooped sleepily and he put his head down on the table. In another minute, the stray began to snore softly.

Amelia straightened. "Sleeping like a baby. You're good, Sev."

"Any second year can make up a sleeping draft," the Potions Master shrugged.

"In five minutes, knowing the precise amount to knock out a dog?"

"Well, that's why I'm the Potions Master." He turned back to the cauldron of burn salve, stirring it briefly with a long spoon. "Excellent. Just the right consistency."

He pointed his wand at the cauldron, made a swirling motion and the salve flowed out of the black kettle and into a small earthenware pot.

"Here," he handed the pot to the waiting Amelia. "That should heal up those blisters in a flash. While you're applying that, I'll cast a delousing charm on the mangy animal so we don't all wake up tomorrow with fleas."

Soon they had made the dog as comfortable as possible, putting the animal on a soft blanket. In addition to the burned tail, the dog had various bruises and cuts and was very thin.

"He needs plenty of liquids, beef broth with an egg or some ground beef when he wakes up." Amelia said, studying the sleeping animal.

"He needs a bath and a brushing too. I don't want dog hair all over my lab," Snape muttered, brushing the dog hair off his clothes.

"I'll get to that after he's up and about. I think he'll clean up quite nicely, don't you?"

"Now, don't start getting attached to that fleabag. We're not keeping him. Soon as he's better, off he goes."

"Where? Back to the streets?" she demanded angrily.

"Of course not. Even I'm not that cruel. We'll find him a good home."

"I think he already has a good home."

"No. Absolutely not. I don't like dogs." Snape said firmly.

"All right, dear," Amelia said, humoring him.

The next morning, Amelia woke to find Severus gone. She padded sleepily into the kitchen, expecting to find him making breakfast. But the kitchen was dark.

"Severus?"

"Down here," came the muffled reply.

She went down the stairs to the lab, fully expecting to find him preparing some new elixir. Instead, he was cross-legged on the floor, the dog's head in his lap, patiently spooning broth with an egg in it down the animal's throat.

"I came down to check on him and he seemed hungry," Snape said defensively. "But he was too weak to drink from a bowl, so I had to do it this way."

"So I see." She bent to examine the dog, who thumped his tail weakly. "He looks much better than yesterday."

"He sure doesn't smell better though," Snape mumbled, feeding the dog another spoonful of broth. "As soon as you can stand on your feet, you're getting a real bath," he told the dog. "And by the way, I still don't like dogs, so don't try and act all sweet and innocent with me."

The dog wagged his tail again. Thump. Thump. Then he licked Severus' hand. "Oh, so now you like me, huh? Maybe now you won't bite the hand that feeds you."

Amelia hid a grin, for out of the corner of her eye she saw the wizard's hand creep up to scratch the dog behind his pricked ears.  
_  
Doesn't like dogs my eye!_

Over the next few days, she caught the Potions Master doing various things for the dog he claimed he'd never wanted. Severus was the one who woke up first in the morning and took the dog out for a walk. "Well, someone has to," he grumbled when she commented on it, pretending not to see the brand new leather leash and collar hanging on a hook next to their coats. She'd also caught him feeding the dog scraps from their meals. "He's too thin. Look at his ribs." Or cooking him ground beef mixed  
with rice and cheese. "That Muggle dog food's no good. He won't touch it."

"Of course not. He's not dumb, why would he eat dry dog food when he can get fresh ground beef?" Amelia laughed.

"_You _were the one who told me to feed him that."

"Not for every meal. Just in the beginning."

"What did you want me to do, watch him starve?" Snape countered. "If he dies, there goes five Galleons of wasted potion ingredients."

"Uh-huh. That's why you spent three hours yesterday giving him a bath and grooming him."

"He smelled and you know I can't abide the smell of dogs." Snape pointed out. "Besides, now he doesn't look so scruffy."

He indicated the dog, who was lying on the rug near his foot. The dog had begun to fill out some due to regular food and his freshly washed coat gleamed inky black save for tan on his legs, around his eyes and the tip of his tail. The hair on his tail had now grown back, thanks to Snape's potion, and was a silky bush.

Amelia studied him thoughtfully. "I'd say he's a mix between a shepherd and a collie. He's got the shepherd ears and coloring and the size, but the collie fur and disposition. If I had to venture a guess, I'd say he'll be about ninety pounds or so when he fills out. A good- sized dog. If he hadn't been so starved, he'd have taken those three brats easily."

Snape's eyes narrowed at the mention of the three boys. "Sneaking little cowards. I can't wait till I have that wretch Gerald Crouch in my class. If he puts one toe out of line, I'll slap him with a detention so fast he won't know what hit him."

"You'd take points from your own House?"

"Not if I can't help it. But in his case, I'll gladly make an exception." Severus said in distaste. "There's something wrong with a kid that likes to hurt animals like that. He's got the makings of a serial killer or a Death Eater, come to think of it."

"I'd have to agree with you," Amelia nodded, kneeling to pet the dog. "You'll need to watch that one, Sev."

"Oh, I will. Believe me." He fished something that looked suspiciously like a dog biscuit out of his pocket and tossed it to the shepherd-collie. "Catch!"

The dog was on his feet in a flash, and the treat was snatched out of midair and devoured in a twinkling.

"Did you see that? Moves as quick as lightning. And smart too, I just taught him that trick yesterday. He's brighter than half the children I'll be teaching, aren't you, boy?"

The dog wagged his plumed tail and woofed in agreement. Then he nudged the wizard's hand until Snape rubbed his ears.

"Dog tricks, Sev? Who was it that said not to get attached to him, hmmm?"

"I'm not attached to him," Severus argued, still petting the black ears. "But people will be more likely to want him if he's well- mannered."

"Then you've had an offer for him?"

"No," he said quickly. "I mean, I haven't asked anyone yet," the Potions Master hedged. "I'm going to, next week. He'll, uh, look better then and I'll have more time to work on obedience."

"You know what I think?" Amelia said slowly, smiling smugly. "I think you like that dog but are too afraid to admit it, Severus Snape."

"Don't be ridiculous, Amarotti. That dog's nothing but trouble. He almost bit my hand off, he eats like a horse, sheds like a polar bear, and he snores. Not to mention the fact that yesterday his blasted tail knocked over a whole shelf of my glass bottles. And he chewed my slippers too."

"What was he doing in your lab?"

"I let him in because he was whining at the door. It was distracting me and I couldn't spare the time to put a silencing charm on him, so I opened the door instead." Snape admitted. "And look how he repaid me." He shook a finger at the dog. "_You _are a menace, you know that? Destruction on four legs. You're a worthless fleabag and the  
sooner you're out of here, the better. I should just open the door and let you go play in the street."

The dog whined softly, tilting his head to the side and giving the Potions Master a pleading look from huge brown eyes.

"Don't give me that pathetic look. It won't work on me. I don't like you. First chance I get, I'm giving you away, then you can wreck someone else's house. I mean it. Now quit looking at me like that."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Amelia hooted.

"You'll see it. I'll be putting up signs tomorrow."

The dog flopped over on his back, all four feet waving ludicrously in the air.

Snape looked down his long nose at the grinning canine. "What now? Can you believe this? The insolent puppy thinks I'm going to drop everything and rub his belly for him. Ha!" he picked up the book he'd been reading and buried his nose in it.

"I'm going to get some tea. Want some?"

"Sure." He didn't look up from his book.

Amelia slipped out of the room, ostensibly to make tea. She peeked quickly around the doorframe.

Severus was still reading, pointedly ignoring the wriggling dog by his feet, who had managed to move directly under the toe of Snape's shoe.

Very slowly, the wizard's foot moved, back and forth, rubbing the dog's belly. The dog sighed in bliss and Amelia bit her lip to keep from laughing.

Every morning for a week Amelia would ask when the dog would be given away. "Found him a home yet, Sev?"

The answers were varied, but evasive.

"Later, I'm too busy right now."

"As soon as I finish this next paragraph, I'll ask the neighbors."

"Tomorrow, the dog goes."

Every evening the dog would still be there, lying on the rug.

By the end of three weeks, Amelia couldn't resist saying, "You know, Sev, if you haven't found a home for the dog by now, he really needs a name. We can't keep calling him "boy"."

"What would you suggest?"

"How about Blackie?"

"Too common."

"Midnight?"

"He's not pure black."

"Vagabond?"

"Don't like it." He snapped his fingers. "Maverick, that's what we'll call him," Snape said decisively. "It sounds better than Vagabond."

"I like it. A maverick's a wanderer and a rebel. He wandered into our lives and he beat all the odds. He even won_ you_ over, Sev."

"What are you babbling about?"

"Come on, Snape, admit it. The dog's not going anywhere, not today or any other day. Because you can't bear to give him up. Maverick's here to stay."

The Potions Master scowled, not meeting her eyes. "I . . .ah, hell, I guess I can put up with him."

Maverick barked, then jumped up to plant both paws on Snape's shoulders and lick his entire face.

"Ugh! Get down, you walking carpet! Just because I said you could stay does _not _mean you can walk all over me, you crazy beast!" He shoved the big dog off him, wiping his face with his sleeve, concealing a grin as he did so.

"Thought you didn't like dogs."

"I don't. Except this one. Sometimes," Snape admitted grudgingly. Then he knelt to scratch his dog under the chin.

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	8. Remember Me

**Remember Me**

﻿He glanced at the timer on his table, observing that the invisibility potion still had  
five more minutes left to simmer. He rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes, they felt gritty and sore, he'd spent most of last night tossing and turning, at last deciding sleep was a lost cause. That was when he'd gone down to his lab, leaving Maverick snoozing by Amelia's feet on the bed.

He'd forbidden the dog to sleep on the bed, but inevitably the dog ended up there, no matter how many times Severus scolded him and made him lie on the floor. Typical. He would have to put up with a dog with a mind of his own, who only obeyed when he felt like it.

"Reminds me of his master," Amelia had remarked one day, earning her one of Severus' famous "Snape glares".

When he'd woken at 3AM however, he hadn't bothered to drag the big beast off the bed, he was too tired, though not tired enough to sleep.

Funny, this was the first insomniac night he'd spent since Amelia had moved in with him. For almost all of his life he'd slept alone, battled his demons alone, and thought nothing of it. It was simply the way things were. Then along came Amelia and gone were those solitary days forever.

The empathic magician emanated an aura of serenity that enabled him to sleep deeply and dreamlessly, better than any sleeping draft he'd ever brewed. Except for that week when she'd been overwhelmed with her own nightmares.

He'd left her sleeping the sleep of the just, pulling on an old black robe over his nightclothes, since it was chilly in the lab, and sliding his feet into cracked leather slippers. Amelia had offered to buy him new ones, but he'd refused. His old ones might be worn, but they were. . .comfortable. Perfect for puttering about in his basement laboratory.

_You know the reason you can't sleep_, hissed the truthful part of his mind. _In two days she'll return to America, to her life as a Dark Hunter, and who knows if you'll ever see her again? Oh sure, she said she'll write you, but once she gets home, she might choose to forget she ever knew you. Severus Snape? Oh yes, that was the guy I had an affair with way back when, poor introverted sod, went on to become a professor, of all things._

Amelia's not like that, his heart whispered. You saved her life and she saved yours, she loves you—all of you—and she would never forget you. You're being utterly ridiculous.

And yet, he had the strangest foreboding that once she walked out the door, he would never see her again.

More foolishness. He put no stock in prophetic dreams or divination, regarding it as the most imprecise and ambiguous of all the magical disciplines. The cryptic words uttered by a half-mad seer had indirectly caused the deaths of James and Lily Potter. He would never trust such again.

So he shrugged off the premonition as the product of a mind that was sleep-deprived and upset at losing one of the few people he trusted and the only one he'd ever loved.

_She promised to return someday_, he reminded himself. _If she can, she'll keep that promise. And if she can't, then I'll go and find her. What is an ocean to a wizard, after all? It's true nothing good in my life ever lasts, but this is one thing worth fighting for. _The timer went off, chirping like a phoenix. He moved over to check the contents of the cauldron, giving the silvery iridescent liquid one last stir before putting out the fire. He carefully ladled the liquid into small glass beakers, neatly labeled in his characteristic elegant tiny script.

He circled his wand counterclockwise, muttering a disinfecting charm that scoured out his cauldron, leaving it sparkling clean, ready for the next elixir he would brew up.

Five AM.

He still felt a lingering tiredness and an aching behind his eyes that wouldn't go away. Two days. That was all the time they had left. It wasn't enough, but it was all they had.

_If only I could make a potion to save time somehow. To stretch it out, make it last,  
one moment unto infinity, so I'll never have to say goodbye. Regrettably, not even magic can accomplish everything. We can move through time, manipulate it on occasion, but in the end it is the one force all of us must bow to. That and death, of course. _He thought about mixing up a batch of Polyjuice potion, or rearranging his dried herbs, anything to keep busy so he wouldn't brood about how empty the house would feel once she was no longer in it. Desolate, cold, lonely. He'd almost forgotten the way it had felt.

True, he'd be leaving for Hogwarts a day or two after her departure, so the silence wouldn't have time to grow on him all that much. Then too, there was Maverick, his dog now, since Amelia refused to take him back with her.

"He'll be good company for you once I'm gone. Dogs make wonderful listeners, they never get tired of hearing your voice, and you can tell them all your secrets and they'll never betray you. They're always happy to see you too."

All of that was true, but though he liked Maverick, the dog was no replacement for Amelia. Nothing could ever replace Amelia, not even another woman. She was the one and only, he would never risk his heart a second time.

Perhaps his teaching duties at Hogwarts and his more clandestine assignments for the Order of the Phoenix would keep him so busy that he wouldn't have time to miss her.

_Ah, who am I kidding? No matter where I am or what I'm doing, she'll be there, and  
I will miss her every day, waking and sleeping, like an amputee missing a lost limb.  
Dumbledore always said love was the greatest force in the universe. I always sneered  
at him, thinking him a sentimental old fool. But he was right, blast him! Look at what love has done to me._

It was easier before, when I didn't give a damn about anyone and no one gave a damn about me. Now that I've known love, how will I ever live without it?

One day at a time, Severus, his inner voice chided_. One miserable day at a time. _A pair of warm hands gripped his shoulders lightly. Startled, he jerked his head up to peer over his shoulder. "Amelia! Did I wake you?"

"No. What are you doing down here at this hour?"

"Thinking."

"And worrying."

"A bit."

"A _bit_?" He felt her eyebrow go up. "Sev, you're so tense I'm surprised your shoulders aren't cracking like an ice statue. No wonder you couldn't sleep."

She began to massage the back of his neck and shoulders, her small yet strong fingers finding all the knots and kinks in his muscles and rubbing them away.

His head drooped and he shut his eyes. Tired. . .he was so tired . . .and her hands were like magic on his stressed muscles. Gradually, the throbbing behind his eyes eased.

"Feel better?"

"Yes. Don't stop."

She continued her ministrations for several more minutes, until he felt as though he could fall asleep standing there.

"What's bothering you?"

"You don't know?" He reached up to clasp her hands in his own.

"I won't read you without permission, you know that," she reproved gently. "I know you're worried and upset, but not why."

"I would have thought that was obvious."

"You don't want me to leave." She leaned her head against his back. "If it's any consolation, I don't want to leave either. Maybe we should switch places—I'll go teach and you can go apprehend crooks."

"Much as I'd like to, I can't. My place is here, fighting  
alongside my colleagues," Snape said regretfully.

"As is mine." She came around to face him and he held her tightly. "What is it all those army types always say? Duty before desire. I'd say that describes us to a T."

"Unfortunately." He made a face. "You know what they say about long distance relationships—they don't last."

"We'll be the exception. We can write to each other every week."

"Every week? Why not more than that?"

"Because once you start grading tests, papers, and homework, you won't want to see a quill or a piece of parchment, trust me." Amelia predicted.

"Damn kids!" he muttered balefully.

"Now, now, Professor. Don't be prejudiced against your students before you even meet them."

"How can I not be, when they're part of the reason keeping me from you?"

"Circumstances are keeping us apart," she corrected softly. "At least for now. Who knows, in a year or two, thing might be different. Remember, nothing is impossible with magic, my love."

"Ever the optimist, aren't you?" he said with just a hint of  
sarcasm in his tone.

"Better than being a pessimistic pain in the ass."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you need to stop making yourself miserable over something you can't change. Going into your new job with a chip on your shoulder the size of a polar icecap isn't going to help anyone."

He stiffened, not liking her tone at all. "I'm not going into teaching because I want to enrich kids' minds or make their future brighter or any of that other crap," he snapped. "I'm doing it for a cover, Dumbledore gave me the position to salve his own conscience after I agreed to risk my life as his spy. I took it because I need the money, not because I can make a difference in the lives of those children."

"But you will, Severus. You won't be able to help yourself. I know you. You might snarl and grumble and act like you hate them, but underneath all that sarcasm and sharp temper, you care for them. Just the way you do for Maverick."

He looked away. "That's a load of bull."

"Is it? Severus, no matter how hard you try, you aren't going to be able to keep them all at a distance. You can play the strict, cold- hearted Potions Master all you want, but one day a student's going to see right past that to the man beneath and there won't be a damn thing you can do about it," she lectured, frowning up at him.

"So, now you're a seer as well as an empath, Amarotti?" he sneered. "Shall I fetch you some tea leaves or perhaps a crystal ball so you can predict exactly when this auspicious event will take place?"

"Damn you, Snape!" she spat, jerking free of him to stand scowling at him, her hands on her hips. "Don't pick a fight with me just because you're insecure and scared and that's the only way you know how to handle it!"

Stung by her assessment, he lashed back with, "When I require an expert mental assessment, _Doctor_, I'll bloody well ask for it!"

"The only thing _you're_ asking for, _Professor_, is for me to knock you on your ass, you smug twit!"

"That'll be the day," he laughed mockingly.

The next thing he knew, he was sitting on the floor and his jaw was throbbing like seven hells.

For one moment neither of them moved, they simply remained staring at each other.

Severus rubbed his jaw gingerly. "Where did you learn to throw a punch like that?"

"Academy self-defense class," she said softly, not meeting his eyes. "I'm sorry, Sev. I shouldn't have lost my temper like that."

"Why are _you _apologizing? I asked for it. _I'm _the one who's sorry."

He climbed to his feet, wincing slightly.

"Better put some ice on that jaw before it swells."

"Right." He looked her up and down, a rueful crooked grin on his face. "Last time I ever argue with an Italian. You weren't kidding about that temper."

"That's not something I'm proud of," she said, hanging her head. "I've fought all my life to control it, but you'd never know it from the way I just hit you."

"You were provoked. I don't know what in hell's wrong with me. The last thing I wanted when I got up this morning was to pick a fight with you. Next thing I know, my mouth's running two steps ahead of my brain," he said disgustedly.

"My mom always said you could tell how upset a guy is by how many stupid fights he starts before breakfast."

"And how hard you need to deck him to knock some sense into his head, am I right?"

Amelia nodded. "I'm never taking her advice again."

"Why? I'd say it worked . . .like a charm."

She groaned. "That was really bad, Sev." She snapped her fingers. "Here. Maybe ice will numb that sarcastic edge off your tongue." She held out an icepack.

"Not bloody likely, Miss Amarotti," he chuckled darkly, cradling the ice to his stinging face. "My mother always said my mouth could provoke a saint."

"And heaven knows, I'm no saint," she said wryly. "Let's forget this ever happened and eat breakfast. I'll make you some oatmeal."

He shot her a sulky look, then followed her up the stairs. He would never admit it, but she had a better right hook than Sirius Black.

They spent the rest of the day in each other's company, desperate to wring every second they could out of each hour. They Apparated back to their secret glen and had an impromptu picnic, where they ate Chocolate Frogs, strawberries, and ham salad  
sandwiches, washed down with a bottle of honey wine.

Afterwards, Severus lay with his head in Amelia's lap and read aloud one of his Lost Potions of the Ages books.

When he'd finished the chapter on elixirs of youth and healing, she bent and kissed him gently, mindful of his sore mouth. "I love you, Severus Snape, even if you're a pain in the ass sometimes."

"I'm luckier than I deserve," he smiled up at her. "I'm beginning to believe in such things as second chances."

"Nothing is impossible if you believe in magic," she returned impishly.

"Be careful when you go back to work. Don't let some blasted Dark Wizard jump you and hurt you."

"I won't."

"Promise?"

"If you will promise me the same. Be the unseen shadow, Sev. Hide yourself away, and don't let those bloody Death Eaters find the real you."

"I promise."

She cupped the phoenix locket in her hand, gazing at it lovingly. "I will treasure this, and you, for the rest of my life."

"I will love you from now until forever," he whispered, kissing her gently. "If you ever need me, send for me and I'll be there. Anytime."

"But your job with Dumbledore . . ."

"If you ever need me, send for me," he repeated, cutting her off. "I mean it. Nothing matters more to me. _Nothing_."

"Severus! If you break an Unbreakable Vow, you'll die. I will not be the cause of that."

"How will my helping you break my Vow? We're both on the same side. I will walk through hell and back for you, I've done it once and I can do it again. Therefore I'll tell you once more, put aside that stubborn pride, Amarotti, and send for me if you need me. For anything."

"If there's no other choice, I will," she agreed at last.

"Fair enough," he said and let it go. This was not the time to push, he didn't want to get into another fight with her. "When do you have to leave?"

"The day after tomorrow. I, uh, don't have a definite departure time, but it ought to  
be sometime in the morning. It'll take Fireflash and me about three hours or so to get back home to New York City."

"Will they assign you a new case right away?"

"No, I think they might let me work on, uh, profiles or routine patrols for a week or so, to get used to things again. Then they'll reassign me to find another lawbreaker."

"Do you miss it then?"

"Actually, yeah. I really love my work, it means a lot to me to be doing something that matters—that will help make people's lives better. Sort of like your job, Sev."

"I'd hardly equate being a spy or teaching as the same as being a Dark Hunter."

"Why not? We have plenty of undercover agents who do much the same work as your Headmaster assigned you. It's how we gain most of our intelligence on necromancers. We consider them valued members of our task force because they take the greatest risks. It's an important job, but it's also not one everyone is suited for. It takes a special kind of person."

"One who's skilled in deception, betrayal, and subterfuge, among other things."

"No, one who's courageous and dedicated to a cause he believes is the right one," she corrected softly. "You're an honorable man, Severus, don't sell yourself short."

"I'm no paragon, Amelia."

"Did I say you were? None of us are perfect, and that's the way it should be. You're no knight in shining armor, Snape, but neither are you the devil you think you are."

"You sound awfully certain of that, Miss Amarotti. Beware the sin of pride, Dark Hunter."

"That's not pride, that's an empath talking, Sev. One who knows your heart like she knows her own. And it's not black, but composed of light and shadow, like anyone else's. We all have flaws, you maybe a bit more than most, but you've worked hard to overcome them and you've succeeded. Believe in yourself, my love. I do."

"Heaven only knows why."

"Stop it!" she ordered sharply. "Stop tearing yourself down like that. Listen to me, Severus Snape, and listen good. Whatever you were, that man is not here before me now. A different man stands before me today, one who has learned to trust and love, that's the man who risked his sanity for me, to free me from my own devils. Oh yes,  
I know the cost of the dreamwalk spell and why so few wizards will attempt it. Fail and you're lost, trapped forever in the mind you tried to save. Yet you cast that spell without thought of yourself, and I let you into my mind because I trusted you not to hurt me or take advantage of me. That's something no one else can claim. I don't let just anyone inside my head, not even my family. Only you, because only you had a snowball's chance in hell of facing me at my worst and surviving it. An empath's at her most deadly when she's scared and angry, did you know that? Yet you walked into my mind without batting an eyelash. And you didn't just survive, you healed me. Do you know how you did that?"

"Not really."

"Love. Your love for me was stronger than the fear and hate I felt. Now tell me how a selfish man can love another that way? He can't. But you can."

"Because you taught me."

"No, all I did was give you an opportunity to demonstrate the love within you. You can't teach love, Sev, it has to come from within. You have to want to love, else no one can make you. That's the one truth every empath knows." She stated. "No force on earth can make that Dark Lord Voldemort love, because he doesn't want it. He prefers to be empty, cold, and heartless. Like Slade or any of the countless others we Dark Hunters stalk. It's not something you can hide, Sev, and I would know if you were one of them. And you're not. You never were."

He hugged her to him fiercely, unable to refute her logic, unable to articulate the relief her words gave him. For once his sharp tongue was stilled, rendered mute by the utter conviction she radiated.

He loved her more than anything, she was the very best thing he'd ever known, and she in turn loved him. It was like a mathematical equation.

Amelia was good.

He loved her.

She loved him too.

Therefore he was good.

Inescapable logic. He had no choice but to accept it. Despite all the mistakes, all of the sins he had committed, he was still a good person, one worthy of love and being loved.

She saw in an instant when the revelation struck him, felt him shiver with unadulterated joy, and she kissed him, flinging the gates of her mind wide, allowing him to share his newfound epiphany with her.

_Come with me, Severus, she urged soundlessly. You have given your soul wings, now let me teach you how to fly. Come with me, beloved. _He touched her mind, allowing her to lead him upward to a place he'd touched only in his dreams. Together they soared into the heavens, no longer two separate entities, but one—body, heart, and  
soul.

That last day in the glen would never be forgotten by either of them. It was one of the defining moments of Severus Snape's life and it was one he drew strength from when things were at their darkest later on in his life.

Two mornings later they bid each other goodbye, and their parting was sweet sorrow indeed.

"Remember me," she wept into his shoulder.

"Always," he murmured, brushing her tears aside with a fingertip. "Come back soon, my love."

"As soon as I can." She kissed him one last time, a bittersweet kiss full of love and longing. "Until we meet again, Sev."

He helped her mount Fireflash, bidding the bronze a safe trip across the Atlantic. "Take care of her, Fireflash."

"You bet, kid. Behave yourself, ya hear?"

"I'll do my best," Severus laughed.

"Be seeing you then. Goodbye and good luck!" Fireflash called, then launched himself skyward in one tremendous leap.

Severus watched the bronze dot in the sky rise higher and higher until it vanished from sight.

Then he sat down on their favorite rock, drew his knees up to his chest, and wept softly. _Remember me, she said. Oh, Amelia, how could I forget the woman who gave me back my heart? Forget you? Not in a thousand lifetimes. _He closed his eyes, allowing himself to drift back in time, recalling the way she had felt in his arms, the scent of honey and lemon that clung to her skin, the golden echo of her laughter, the brilliance of her smile.

_Until we meet again, Amelia Amarotti. I just pray it's soon._

At last he felt the chill of evening seeping into his bones and he winced and rose to  
his feet.

_How long have I been here?_ he wondered, stretching stiff muscles. _All day, I think. Bloody hell, Snape, you've wasted a whole day indulging in a pity party! _His inner voice scolded. _Enough of this nonsense, pull yourself together and get on with your life. You don't have time to waste feeling sorry for yourself, you've got a class to  
teach tomorrow. _He scolded himself briskly all the way down the trail, mentally  
reviewing the notes he'd made for himself weeks ago, class lists sent to him by Dumbledore, and the approximate amount of ingredients he'd need from the school stores to teach these first lessons.

_Now, let's see. I'll need powdered newt tongue, pearl dust, hair of a black dog . . Oh, hells! I forgot about Maverick! _Snape swore roundly. The big dog was not accustomed to being alone all day, there was no telling what he'd do if he became bored.

Severus Apparated, vanishing from the Highlands and reappearing at his house in Spinner's End in mere moments. He flung open the front door, fully expecting an unholy mess, only to be greeted by a furry whirlwind that sprang up to plant both  
paws on his shoulders, nearly knocking him flying.

"Ugh! Maverick, _down_!" the Potions Master commanded in his sternest tone.

Which had absolutely no effect upon the big dog, who began enthusiastically licking his formerly absent master from forehead to chin.

Normally, such behavior would have elicited several stinging comments regarding the dog's ancestry, hygiene, manners, and brains. But that afternoon, the Potions Master simply ruffled the dog's ears before pushing him off and letting him outside.

Severus went inside, discovering to his relief that the dog had behaved himself for once, and only chewed a corner of the rug near the couch, which he mended quickly with his wand. Then he conjured a large bone for the shepherd-collie and sat down in the recliner, staring morosely into the fire.

Maverick sensed his master's unhappiness and when he returned to the house, he did not try to entice Snape in a game of fetch or tug-o-war the way he usually did. Instead, he came and put his head on Snape's knee, as if to say, _See? You're not alone, I'm here_. Severus absently petted the dog, smiling sadly. "You miss her,  
don't you, boy? That makes two of us."

Maverick whined softly, looking towards the door, ears pricked.

"Hey, quit that," his master ordered gruffly. "She's gone and that's all there is to it, understand? All good things come to an end, you know."

Maverick wagged his tail.

"Of course you don't know, you're only a dog," Severus muttered. "Why am I talking to you as if you can understand me? I must be losing my mind."

He nudged the dog with the toe of his boot. "Go and lie down while I get supper, fleabag. Drool on the rug, not me you ignorant furry imbecile. Haven't you learned any manners yet?"

Maverick cocked his head, then pounced on his bone, gripping it in his teeth and growling playfully.

Snape shook his head at the dog's antics, which were threatening to knock over the coffee table. "Impossible animal, I don't know why I put up with you. I ought to just open the door and let you play in the street, with all the other delinquent puppies . . ."

The man grumbled all the time he cooked his solitary supper, but he fed Maverick the second steak he'd cooked, same as always. Then he played fetch with the dog outside until Maverick was tired.

Snape went to bed late, finishing packing for his trip to Hogwarts. He crawled under the covers, which were warm from Maverick's body. He opened his mouth to snarl at the black dog to sleep on the floor, where dogs belonged, then closed it.

"Move over, you big oaf. This bed wasn't meant for a ninety-pound carpet. And don't you dare drool on my pillow, or else I'll stuff you and mount you and give you to that brat Imogene next door."

Maverick opened one eye and winked sleepily. Then he snuggled deeper into the blanket, drifting off to sleep again, the Potion Master's hand buried in his ruff.

**Hope you all are enjoying this so far! Something tragic happens next though, so be warned!**


	9. The Darkest Day

**The Darkest Day**

A year went by, and gradually Severus began to accustom himself to his dual role of professor and spy. He contacted Lucius Malfoy again and pretended to be his ally, telling him that Voldemort had ordered him to take a teaching post at Hogwarts to spy on Dumbledore. A blatant lie, but what Lucius didn't know wouldn't hurt him. He agreed to keep in touch with his old schoolmate by specially coded letters, sent at certain times of the night by his tawny owl, Nightfall.

He wrote to Amelia once a week faithfully, sending his missives off with Nightfall, putting a special spell on the bird so the letters would arrive by Express Owl Post, for he wanted her to get them as soon as possible. He told her the more interesting anecdotes of his day, how Maverick was doing, and any number of ways his students were driving him crazy. (He longed to throttle at least one a day, but managed to restrain himself. They soon learned not to be disruptive during his class, for his detentions were no laughing matter.) Yet he found he enjoyed demonstrating his methods to them, especially the ones who actually listened to what he had to say and asked intelligent and thoughtful questions.

She always replied promptly, though her letters were sometimes brief, a few lines here and there, the occasional photo, scribbled inbetween cases.

He teased her about her penmanship.

_Amelia,_

_I can barely read this chicken scratch. Did you fail handwriting in third grade, dear? Some of my eleven-year-old students write more legibly then you do, I'm sorry to say. Good thing I'm not grading this, I'd take away ten points and make you do it over._

_Prof. S. Snape_

She wrote back.

_Stuff it, Sev. See how well **you **write, Professor, on the back of a dragon flying a hundred miles an hour over a Texas dust storm. I think even your feathers would be ruffled, Mr. Perfection. Give Maverick a hug from me._

I miss you.

Love always,  
Your Amelia

_I miss you more, beloved_, he thought wistfully, then scowled down at a student's homework essay.

_I see you didn't even bother to read the material, Mr. Johnson. Ten points from Hufflepuff. Merlin grant me patience! _Amelia's letters were the high point of his week, he checked the post every morning for a creamy envelope with the Dark Hunter crest—a golden hound tracking a set of clawed footprints. Beneath was the motto **"We always get our quarry". **He spent the Christmas holidays doing endless experiments, playing with Maverick, and dreaming of Amelia. Whoever had invented the saying absence makes the heart grow fonder had been dead on target, for he missed Amelia even more now than before.

Then, one week into his second term of teaching, he received a letter from her saying she was working on an ultra top secret case for the Department of Magical Defense.

_Real hush hush, black ops assignment, so I can't give youdetails, Sev. I won't be able to write for awhile, so don't get nervous if you don't hear from me for a few months._

The Department's been hunting this one for years, and if I can collar her it'll lay to rest a number of vengeful spirits, as well as make my name a household legend. But first I have to corral the slippery worm. She's kin to Slade, at least it seems that way. Wish me luck. Talk to you soon.

All my love,  
Amelia

P.S. I've got a surprise for you. You're really gonna love it. I'll tell you more when I finish this case.

He raised an eyebrow at that last. _A surprise I'll really love? Like you coming back to visit? _He dearly hoped that was the surprise she was talking about, for he longed to see her with an almost physical ache.

The next week there wasn't a new letter. He wasn't alarmed, she had probably started hunting the dark magician, going deep under cover. He silently wished her well.

Two months went by. Then three.

Still no owl came.

He sent Nightfall out with a brief note at the last address she'd given him, but there was no one there.

By the fourth month he was growing increasingly edgy, dreaming of her nightly, locked in a duel with a faceless black- cloaked figure reminiscent of Voldemort.

He brushed the dreams aside. _Don't go off half-cocked, Snape. You're making a mountain out of a molehill. _

The fourth month came and went and still an owl did not come.

Severus had just finished grading a stack of fifth-year O.W.L.'s when he looked up to find Dumbledore standing before him. The old wizard looked unusually grave.

"Severus, may I have a word with you in private?"

"Certainly, Headmaster. My office or yours?"

"Mine, if you please."

Severus put away his papers, locking his office door, then followed the Headmaster. "Something wrong with my curriculum this term, or is it . . .another matter?" he lowered his voice to the barest whisper.

"Neither, Severus," Dumbledore said heavily. "I'll explain once we're safe from prying eyes and ears."

Severus was puzzled by that reply, but did not press the Headmaster further. Dumbledore would reveal his secrets in his own time, or not at all.

"Fizzing Whizbees," Dumbledore spoke the password that opened the secret stairway to his inner sanctum.

The two wizards stepped inside the Headmaster's office. All the portraits on the walls looked sad. Snape wondered what was wrong with them.

Dumbledore gestured for Severus to be seated before his desk. "Sit down please, Severus." He reached under a stack of papers. Fawkes the phoenix gave a trilling chirp, and Severus could have sworn the bird was looking at him pityingly. "This came for you today from America," Dumbledore announced.

"America!" Snape exclaimed eagerly. "I have a . . .friend there that I was waiting to hear from. She must have finished her case . . ."

"She did, though not in the way you think," Dumbledore said, his eyes bright with sorrow. "I'm sorry, Severus."

He drew forth a black bordered envelope and handed it to the other wizard.

Snape took it, at first not comprehending what he was seeing.

This looked like official stationary, not the casual parchment Amelia  
used. And the handwriting wasn't Amelia's casual cheerful scrawl, but another more professional script.

It was addressed to: **Professor Severus Snape  
c/o Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**

"I don't understand, sir. Why did you receive this letter and not me? It has my name on it."

"The Headmaster always receives letters of this nature, Severus. So that he may break the news gently . . .do look at the envelope again, please."

Snape did so, and this time the black border leaped out and decked him in the jaw.

A black border on a letter of this sort meant only one thing.

"No. This can't be happening . . ." he whimpered. "It's a mistake . . ."

"You have my deepest condolences, Severus," Dumbledore said quietly. "I'll leave you alone, if you wish."

Severus felt his mind swirl in panic. _The black border. You know what it means. You **know.** _His chest tightened, until he found himself gasping for breath. His hands shook, causing the black border to waver and blur.

_It's not true. It CAN"T BE TRUE!_ His mind babbled, running in circles like a caged rat.

Suddenly he couldn't stand being inside four walls any longer. They were crushing him, smothering him. He needed air, he needed to get away from the castle, away from his Headmaster's knowing sorrowful gaze.

Crumpling the letter in his fist, he stood up abruptly. "Please excuse me, sir, but I can't stay here . . .I need . . .I'll be right back, I just need a moment . . ."

He bolted from the office, racing down the stairs like a man possessed. He emerged from the castle panting and disheveled, his  
hair flying every which way.

_Broom. I need a broom_, he thought frantically, summoning his from his quarters. _I can't Apparate within school grounds. _His broom soared toward him, hovering in place. He sprang on it and shot across the grounds, ignoring the startled exclamations of several students walking back from the greenhouse.

"Wonder where old Snape is going in such a hurry?"

"Probably going after some poor sap who didn't finish his Potions homework. I feel sorry for whoever it is, the Professor looks mad enough to spit daggers."

Their idle chatter washed over him like the wind blowing, he barely felt it.

At last he was beyond the school grounds and he landed and Apparated directly to the secret glen.

Only this time, the peaceful aura of the glen did not soothe and comfort him. For nothing could comfort him ever again.

His knees gave way and he sank to the ground. His hand opened, revealing the heavy stationary with its ominous border.

_Don't open it. Don't open it,_ his heart howled.

But his hands were working independently of his heart, breaking the seal and unfolding the parchment.

_. . .Hunter Amarotti wished you to be notified in case of her untimely death We, the United States Magical Association, regret to inform you . . .Hunter Amarotti fell in the line of duty, fighting a very powerful dark magician . . .For her valor and dedication and her years of exemplary service we will award her the Order of Merlin First Class posthumously . . .our deepest condolences on your loss, Mr. Snape . . . _There was more, but he could not read it, the writing was blotchy and illegible, though why this was he could not fathom.

Amelia's voice echoed in his head.

_Remember me . . ._"Amelia. Amelia." He sobbed raggedly. "You promised to return to me. You_ promised_!" he howled._ Until we meet again . . .only now we never will. _There was a fiery burning in his chest. _My heart . . .where is my heart? Dead and buried with her. _Then he curled into a ball and began to cry, hopeless tears of rage and endless sorrow.

I love you, Sev. . .

Nothing is impossible with magic . . .

You're the very best thing in my life. . . .

_Once again I am alone, truly alone, forevermore. Alone in the darkness and this time there is no light to guide me, for the light has gone out of the world._**_More Than Words _**

Sev's Poem for Amelia

You told me that you loved me,  
Once upon a summer's day  
Which meant the world to me  
More than words can say

You told me that you loved me  
Then you flew away  
Now I wait for your return  
More than words can say

You told me that you loved me  
My heart rejoiced that day  
I'm still waiting anxiously  
More than words can say

You told me that you loved me  
I promised I would always  
Yet I'm still waiting hopefully  
More than words can say

You told me that you loved me  
Then you died today  
Now I'm alone, my heart is stone  
Filled with words that  
Now I'll never say.

_--Severus Snape_**A/N- this is not the end, part two is coming up soon! That's when you get to meet Sev's daughter, but until then I have two short stories that come inbetween this part and the next one--A Friend In Need and Saving Mrs. Norris--featuring Maverick, Severus's rascal dog, which take place directly after this last chapter. So read them if you would!**

(lines written after he learned of Amelia's untimely death)

**Reviews welcome!**


	10. Her Mother's Daughter

**Part Two: Potion Master's Daughter**

**13 years later, Hogwarts School:**

It was all over The Daily Prophet, how Sirius Black had escaped again and was still wanted by the Ministry. Scores of Aurors were hunting him, but no one could find him.  
Snape rather expected Dumbledore knew where Black was, but if he did, he wasn't talking. It rankled the Potions Master that the Headmaster seemed determined to believe that Black was not the villain he'd been painted, especially after the events in the Shrieking Shack with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," was all Dumbledore would say when Snape pressed him.

And if that were not enough, now a new shadow had come to plague them. Dumbledore had received an owl from two of the U.S. Magical Association's Dark Hunters, a husband and wife team, Jennika and Colin Flynn, requesting permission to search near Hogwarts for a wanted dark magician, one that their latest intelligence had placed in Scotland.

_Her name is Livia Nightshade, and we've been after her for years. She's an evil, sick, vicious killer, she's evaded and killed some of our best operatives. We think she may be lurking in your vicinity. One of her preferred MO's is to kidnap a child as a hostage, use the child as a shield, and then kill the kid in front of our agents, who were helpless to stop her because she'd cast a stasis spell on them. She's what we call a red-level priority one criminal, and we advise you to be very careful with regard to your students. _Dumbledore had been very cautious after reading that letter, sharing the contents of that missive with only two of his staff—Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape.

Minerva had been horrified, saying quietly, "As if we didn't have enough trouble with our own Dark Wizards, now along comes a fugitive from America. What's the world coming to, Albus?"

"A very sorry state, my dear, unless this particular wizard is caught. The U.S. Department of Magical Defense sent me ten pages on the atrocities this one has committed—not reading for the faint of heart, I assure you."

"Well then, it's a good thing that our students are safe at home for the summer holidays," McGonagall stated.

"A handful of students still remain here," Snape reminded her. "Those who have no permanent homes to go to, or are working on an internship, or a situation at home that's intolerable."

"I'm aware of that Severus," Dumbledore said calmly. "Every precaution will be taken to ensure their safety. Hogwarts has long been a bastion against Dark Magic."

"Given what we know of this American necromancer, might I suggest we restrict the students to the grounds?" Snape offered.

"Yes, that's a good idea. I doubt the witch will consider venturing into the castle, not with all the Dark Magic detectors we have."

"Have you told these Dark Hunters that there could be a possibility that their fugitive might join forces with some of our own Death Eaters?" Snape inquired silkily.

"Whyever would you think that, Severus?" cried Minerva.

"Because, Minerva, it would be a logical thing to do. Consider, she's in a strange country, she doesn't know where to hide, that makes her vulnerable. Someone like her isn't used to that, she likes to be in control. She'll be at a disadvantage until she finds a place to hole up, and who better to know of one but another dark practitioner?"

"But would they help her?"

"I think it likely, if she made it worth their while. Nothing for nothing. But if that happens, she will be that much more difficult to find."

Dumbledore nodded, concern etching more lines in his brow. "You are quite correct, Severus. I will make certain our American colleagues are made aware of that possibility."

Snape cleared his throat. "I would like to offer my assistance to them, if I may, Headmaster?"

"Naturally, Severus, though you don't need my permission, you aren't in my employ at present. You may do as you see fit."

"Good. I have an old score to settle with this Dark Witch," Snape hissed, and his eyes blazed with suppressed fury.

"An old score? What are you talking about, Professor?" McGonagall asked, puzzled. "How can you know this dark witch, she only just came here."

"I don't know her personally, Minerva, but I do know of her deeds. She caused the death of a woman whom I was . . .particularly fond of," Snape said through gritted teeth. "It took me a long time to find out that information, but my contact in America at last told me the name of the necromancer my friend had been fighting when she died. It was thirteen years ago, but time doesn't matter to me. I swore on her grave that I would avenge her if I could." Snape bared his teeth in a horrible parody of a smile. "And my patience is rewarded at last, for my enemy has come to me. Now there can be a reckoning, once and for all!"

"Severus!" McGonagall stared at him as if she'd never seen him before. She'd never seen the Potions Master so enraged, normally he was ice cold and controlled to the ninth degree. "You sound as if you mean to . . ._kill _this Nightshade person."

Snape took a deep breath before answering, "The crimes that woman has committed are most unforgivable in nature. If anyone deserves death it is she. And not merely for what she did to my Amelia." He felt himself flinch inwardly as he said her name. Even after thirteen years, the mere thought of her caused a stabbing ache in his chest. Amelia Amarotti, Dark Hunter, the only woman he had ever loved, who had believed in him as a man and a wizard, who had loved him despite all his flaws. Dead and buried these thirteen years, but never forgotten.

"Be careful, Severus," Dumbledore cautioned, breaking into Snape's dark musings. The Headmaster gazed at the other man, meeting his eyes squarely.

_Sometimes the thing we hunt can turn on us, Severus. Be careful, my friend, that you don't become the thing you hate most_.

Snape absorbed the old wizard's silent warning without flinching. _Have no fear of that, sir,_ he replied calmly_. The dark holds no temptation for me, never again. I but seek justice for a wrong done long ago. Amelia would understand. _

_She was a Dark Hunter wasn't she? Like our Aurors?_

_She was very special . . .one of the best in her field. They awarded her the Order of Merlin First Class posthumously._

Aloud, he said, "I'm always careful, Headmaster. But it's a great crime that Nightshade walks free. I shall do all in my power to see that she is brought down."

"So be it. The two wizards will be arriving shortly by dragonback, I believe."

"Dragonback?" Minerva repeated. "I don't believe I've ever tried that method of travel. What sort of dragon would ever permit a human to ride it?"

"A bronze dragon," Snape answered immediately. "_Draco familiaris imperialis_. A species native only to North America. They are sentient and have allied themselves with the American wizards."

"How do you know so much about them, Severus?" Dumbledore wanted to know. "I had never heard of them until recently."

Snape shrugged nonchalantly. "My friend Amelia introduced me to one, his name was Fireflash. He was her partner, a Dark Hunter as well. I had many conversations with him, he was a most fascinating creature."

"I look forward to meeting this dragon," Dumbledore said, his eyes glowing like a child's at Christmas. "Do you think it might be the same one, Severus?"

"It's possible, though there are other bronze dragons who work closely with the American Magical Association." Snape replied, thinking angrily, _If it is Fireflash, I have some very pointed questions to ask him, starting with why he didn't protect Amelia from Nightshade like he was supposed to. _

There were details about Amelia's death that he still didn't know, for though her demise was a matter of public record, how she died was not, except for the fact that she'd been killed dueling Nightshade.

And even that had been hushed up, until Fireflash had contacted him by owl and told him the name of the foe who had destroyed his beloved. He'd meant to ask the bronze those other questions, but the dragon had refused to answer them on paper, saying the subject was top secret and not to be discussed casually. That had been three  
weeks ago, and Severus wondered if Fireflash had known even then that Nightshade was heading to Britain.

_Why can't they seem to catch her? Is it because they're all incompetent or because she's more powerful and therefore more dangerous? Whatever the reason, I'll not rest until I've strung her up from the nearest tree. Death is the only mercy I'll show her. _

"Well, I look forward to meeting them," Minerva said. "It's been too long since I've had a decent conversation with another woman besides Poppy Pomfrey and Professor Sprout. Sybill doesn't count, she's always going off into her fake trances."

"Or shop for shoes," Snape murmured to himself, recalling Amelia's shoe fetish.

"Excuse me, Severus?" Minerva glanced at him questioningly. "Did you say  
something?"

"Er. . . .no, I was just clearing my throat," he recovered swiftly. "They'll be staying in the castle then, I presume?"

"Of course. The castle is the ideal place for them to stay, we certainly have plenty of room." Dumbledore chuckled. "They were going to rent a room in Hogsmeade, I believe, but I assured them they would be better off here." He frowned, half to himself. "There was something else . . .something I'm missing . . ." he lifted his head, his gaze falling on the Sorting Hat sitting on the top of his cabinet of curiosities. "Ah, yes! Now I remember," he exclaimed. "They wrote to me just before they left to tell me they'd be bringing along their apprentice. They feared leaving her alone, she might have become a target, for they've made many enemies during their career and not all of them are behind bars."

"How old is this student?" Minerva asked.

"I believe she—I don't know her name—is around thirteen, close to fourteen."

_Wonderful_, Snape thought acidly. _Just what we need around here, another incorrigible teenage girl. Couldn't they find a babysitter in America? Thank God I won't have to deal with her, as I'll be out hunting Nightshade. This is the only time I have to listen to normal adult conversation. I hope the brat knows how to keep herself amused, because Hogwarts in the summer can be very dull for a teenager. And the last thing we need right now is some nosy child wandering about the castle getting into trouble_.

XXXXXX

She was sitting quietly on a bench just outside the greenhouse, near a bush of prettyflowering myrtle, enjoying the sunshine and reading an advanced medical healing text. Mistress Flynn—she preferred to be called Jenna—had just given it to her this morning.

"Something you might enjoy reading, so you won't get too bored while we'rebriefing our colleagues over here," was how her teacher had put it. "Though the way you devour books, child, I probably should have gotten you three more."

The girl had smiled at that, for it was their little joke, that she would rather read abook than do almost any other girlish activity—like painting her nails or going to parties. Still, reading was why she was so advanced magically, almost a whole year ahead of other students her age. Her two teachers were proud of their apprentice's aptitude, though they occasionally wished she socialized more often. But being a Dark Hunter's apprentice meant you moved around a lot, and she never really had time to form close friendships with kids her own age. Her best friends were animals and her books.

Professor Snape was coming out of the greenhouse with some cuttings of mandrakeand other herbs he needed for a potion which would reverse the effects of the stasis spell Nightshade was so fond of. He was in a hurry, for he'd promised Dumbledore he would meet him and the American wizards in the Great Hall for lunch. He'd spoken briefly to both Dark Hunters upon their arrival. Colin Flynn was a medium-sized blond haired man with a rather impatient air about him, a man more of action than of words, though he seemed like a nice enough fellow, very professional and a former friend of Amelia's. Both of them had attended the Academy with her, his wife Jennika was a dark-haired woman with lively brown eyes and a merry smile, she was an Arithmancer and cryptographer. Both of them were dressed casually in black pants and gray long-sleeved shirts, the Dark Hunters did not believe in uniforms, they preferred to blend in with their surroundings.

He vaguely recalled Amelia mentioning them once or twice, but they'd never reallydiscussed old acquaintances that much, they'd been too busy forming a new relationship with each other.

Colin Flynn seemed to know of him, though. "Severus Snape, right?" he'd said uponseeing him. "Amelia talked about you quite a lot."

"Only about every other sentence," said Jenna, smiling. "She thought you were thegreatest wizard since Merlin. And Amelia wasn't the type to be easily impressed. It's a  
pleasure to finally meet you."

"Likewise, Mrs. Flynn," Severus had said politely, shaking her hand.

"Jenna, please. No need to be so formal around us," the Dark Hunter corrected.

Though talking about Amelia was painful for him, he couldn't help but feel a tiny glow of satisfaction at the fact that she'd actually mentioned him to her friends. It proved that their little affair had not been a fleeting thing, but something real, something that could have been a permanent relationship. _Someday, I would have married her, _he had thought sadly.

Then he'd gone on to inform them of his desire to assist them with their investigation, they'd agreed happily, glad to have the expertise of a local. Afterwards, he'd excused himself to gather the ingredients for the anti-stasis draught, which were numerous and not easy to harvest.

As so often happened, he became involved in his work and lost track of time. Now he was late and irritable because of it, since he prided himself on punctuality. Thus he took the shortcut down the path lined with myrtle trees, past where the American student was studying.

There was a bend at the top of the path, and as Snape crested it he could see thebench and its occupant quite clearly. He glanced briefly at her, not really focusing on her because he was angry at his tardiness. _That must be the American student, _a part of his mind noted_, because she doesn't look familiar. _

Then he looked again—and stopped dead.

He had never seen this girl before, yet he would know her anywhere. For she wasthe spitting image of Amelia Amarotti. Or rather, what Amelia would have looked like as a child. She had the same auburn hair, slightly curly, cut short. The same pixyish face, even the same habit of putting the tip of her tongue between her teeth when she was concentrating.

The resemblance was uncanny.

It was as if his long lost love had been reincarnated.

_I wonder if she could be a relative? Amelia **did **say she had sisters. But I don't know how old they were. It's not inconceivable that this could be one. The resemblance is  
unmistakable. _He drew closer, walking silent footed down the path. The breeze ruffled the back of her neck and she brought up a hand to brush a lock of hair from her forehead.

There was a glint of gold about her neck. Snape's eyes narrowed.

She was wearing a gold chain about her neck. A gold chain upon which a heart-shaped locket was suspended.

His mouth fell open.

_That's **my **locket! She's wearing the locket I gave to Amelia for her birthday_. He would recognize that particular necklace anywhere, it was one of a kind. He supposed it had been given to her as a memento, something to remember Amelia by. _But how dare she wear that here, of all places? _He thought indignantly.

Then he swept past her, his robe fluttering behind him like the wings of a particularly large bat. The girl, absorbed in her reading, did not even look up.

_Why would anyone give Amelia's locket, clearly a lover's token, to such a young child? She would have been a baby at the time of Amelia's death, hardly able to appreciate such a thing. _He frowned sharply.

_She would have been a baby . . . _Then it hit him.

A baby would have been given the locket for remembrance . . .remembrance of the mother she would never know.

She resembled Amelia so much because she was indeed related to her, but not a sister.

She was Amelia's daughter.

_Dearest God_.

He began to run towards the castle. To hell with decorum and lunch too. He needed answers and he needed them right bloody **now**.

"Ah, Severus, there you are!" Dumbledore greeted. He waved a hand at the table filled with enough food to feed an army of Dark Hunters. There were sandwiches of every description, fruit, chips, decanters of wine and pitchers of pumpkin juice and small pots of tea. "We almost started without you."

"My apologies, Albus. I was busy gathering ingredients and it took longer than I expected," Snape said, though he felt anything but sorry for his lateness now.

"Happens all the time to Colin." Jenna chuckled. "Once he gets started on a painting, he forgets the world exists."

Snape nodded politely and seated himself at the table, though he longed to scream _who is that girl and why is she wearing my dead girlfriend's locket?_ He stared at the food arrayed before him in distaste. He had quite lost his appetite.

"Your apprentice, I don't believe we've been introduced," he began. "What's her name?"

"Arista," Colin answered, frowning slightly. "She's kind of quiet, doesn't talk unless she's got something to say, then she chatters nonstop. But she resembles her mother a great deal, don't you think?"

"Who _is_ her mother?" Snape queried softly, leaning forward, though he already knew the answer.

"Amelia, of course," Colin replied, even more confused. "But you knew that already, so what's with the Twenty Questions? She wrote you about her when Arista was born,  
right?" he trailed off when he caught Snape's look of utter bewilderment. "Didn't she?"

"Good God!" Jenna gasped, looking from one man to the other. "He doesn't _know_, Colin."

"But that's impossible," her husband sputtered. "She told me she was going to write him. I reminded her three times to mail the letter . . ."

Snape heard them as if from a distance, his mind had traveled back in time, thirteen years ago, to the last letter he'd received from Amelia.

She'd told him about her being assigned to the black ops case, asked him to wish her luck, and then there had been a post script.

_I've got a surprise for you. You're really gonna love it. Tell you more after I finish this case._"She never wrote me," he managed, his voice crackling with emotions he couldn't name. "Never told me that I had a child. Our child. I think she wanted to surprise me."

_A surprise . . .Amelia, I thought you meant you were going to surprise me with a visit. . .not a baby!_

_That child out there . . .is mine. My daughter. My little girl._

"Looks like she did _that _all right. You're white as a sheet, man," Colin observedwryly.

His wife elbowed him in the ribs. "_Colin!_ How would _you _feel if I never told you I had our child and then I showed up thirteen years later with her? You'd not be so smug then, mister."

Her husband flushed a dull red. "You're right. I'd probably pass out in shock. Sorry, Severus."

_My daughter. I have a daughter. Me, Severus Snape_. He kept repeating those words in his head, because in spite of the proof right outside, he still had trouble believing he was actually a father.

A father to a child he never knew existed.

"Why didn't either of you ever tell me?" he demanded suddenly, angry now that they'd known she was his child and hadn't bothered to contact him.

"Well, we, uh, thought Amelia had already told you," began Jenna awkwardly, looking like a schoolgirl who'd forgotten her homework. "It was her place to inform you, not ours. We'd always assumed she had . . .and then she was killed."

"But didn't you wonder why I never came for my daughter? Or at least sent her letters, money, a birthday card?" Snape scowled.

"At first we thought you had her, until we found her in the orphanage when she was eleven. She went missing soon after Amelia left to track down Nightshade," Colin  
explained.

"Missing? I don't understand. Explain from the beginning," Severus ordered.

"Umm . . .the beginning, right," Jenna coughed, clearing her throat. "That would be right after Amelia returned from her vacation to Scotland. She came back to New York two months pregnant, only she didn't know it. Stress threw off her, um, cycles. Anyway, our boss, Chief Hamilton, didn't give her much breathing space before he sent her out again, and by the time she realized she was pregnant she didn't want to quit her assignment. Said it would reflect badly on her if Hamilton learned she was pregnant then. Hamilton's a chauvinist, hasn't got any respect for women, thinks they belong in the kitchen, cooking with a baby on their hip and all that baloney," Jenna said scornfully, her contempt for her boss plain. "Amelia said he'd say it was typical of a woman—go on vacation and get knocked up. She was right, he _would_ have said that, the pig. And he'd have declared her unfit for duty too, even though she wasn't."

"Hamilton's a jackass, we've always known that," put in Colin. "Eventually, when she couldn't hide it any longer, she told him. He had a hissy fit, Amelia lost her temper with him, and she walked out."

"Did she hit him?" Severus wanted to know.

"Yeah, she did, belted him a good one. How'd you know?"

"I had a quarrel with her once," Snape admitted.

"Ouch." Colin winced. "She had a right hook that could knock out a gargoyle."

"Hamilton was lucky all she did was punch him out," Jenna said angrily. "I'd have turned him into a toad if he'd said the things to me he said to her face. Anyway, Amelia left and came to stay with us until the baby was born. She didn't want to tell her folks yet, they weren't speaking to her still because she refused to quit being a Dark Hunter after the Slade case. Said they were still angry with her since she went back to work, and this would only add to it."

"Would they have disowned her?"

"Oh no. Nothing like that, they weren't the type," Jenna said quickly. "They'd have had a good old Italian shouting match, then they'd have accepted her baby and her back like nothing ever happened. But Amelia wanted to wait, and nothing I said could change her mind. Stubborner than ten mules and a mountain goat, she was!"

"That's for sure," Severus said, a half-smile on his face. "I used to want to shake her sometimes."

"I know the feeling," Colin laughed.

"When was the baby born?"

"March 16th," Jenna answered promptly. "I thought it was strange, that she was so happy, even though the father wasn't there to see his own child get born. I'd have been mad as a hornet if I'd had a baby by myself. Not Amelia. She said, he'll know when it's time and not before."

Severus swore softly under his breath. He knew why she had never told him, because of the Unbreakable Vow. _I won't be responsible for you breaking it. Only if there is no other choice, will I send for you._

Jenna drank some wine, then continued. "A month after Arista was born—Amelia named her Arista Eileen, for both of her grandmothers—and your name's on  
her birth certificate, in case you were wondering, Severus—Hamilton contacted Amelia. He was all sweetness and light, practically begged her pardon on bended knee, the snake. He **needed **her, only she could handle this next assignment, she was the only one he could trust. At first she told him to get lost, that she'd walk through fire before she went back to work for him. She wouldn't work for someone she couldn't respect. But then the Department of Magical Defense called her and requested her assistance for a top secret case, the same case Hamilton wanted her for. Them—she couldn't refuse."

_Damn your stubborn hide, Amarotti! If you were here now, I'd shake you until your teeth rattled._

"They wanted her to track down Livia Nightshade." Snape surmised. "That much I know, she wrote me about it, though she never mentioned names."

"She wouldn't, it was classified," Colin said. "She was under oath. She took a chance even writing about it to you. But you were on her to-be-notified-in-case-of-death list, so I guess the Defense Chief was willing to overlook it."

"Then Hamilton reassigned us to a new case in California chasing down an arsonist,we were in Pennsylvania at the time, and we couldn't look after the baby. Amelia told us not to worry, she'd make other arrangements. We assumed that meant sending her to you or maybe her folks in New Jersey.

"But she didn't. Instead, she hid Arista with a Muggle couple, they ran an orphanage down near Stroudsburg. We knew none of this until two years ago, Severus. All we knew was that we returned from our assignment and Amelia was gone and so was Arista."

"But why choose a Muggle family? Why not just send her to me?"

"I don't know," Jenna sighed. "Once she got that case, she became withdrawn and secretive. I think she was pressed for time, she had the Department of Defense on her back to start looking for Nightshade immediately, and they didn't care if she had a kid to look after first. She knew that Nightshade's MO was kidnapping children and what better target than a Dark Hunter's kid, right? So she protected Arista the best way she could, by hiding her where nobody'd ever think of looking. The old misdirection trick."

"But she did more than just give her baby to them," Colin interjected. "She made sure they'd take care of her, planted some false memories of Arista always being there. She also cast some heavy duty spells on that locket of hers. Protection spells, non-detection spells, all so no dark wizard would be able to find her child. She knew what she was doing, she'd learned her lessons well from Slade. She made it so the locket was unremovable, and thus Arista would stay hidden from any magician. Even us."

"I think she meant it to be a temporary thing." Jenna picked up the thread of theconversation. "Just a few months until she caught Nightshade, then she'd come back and undo the spell and that would be that. Only she never came back, and Arista was never found."

"But she's here with you now."

"Yes, but like I said before, we've only been her teachers for two years." Colinrepeated patiently. "All the time we assumed she was living with you, she was actually still at that Muggle orphanage. She was there for eleven years, thinking perhaps that she was just like everyone else. Until her magic awakened. Once that happened, all the non-detection spells on the locket couldn't hide her. Amelia had calibrated them to hide a baby, not a child with full-blown magical powers. We felt her aura soon after she'd resurrected a cat that had been run over by a car."

"_Resurrected?_ But that's not possible," Dumbledore interjected, speaking up for the first time during this unexpected discussion.

"Tell that to Arista," Jenna said with a shrug. "She's got one of the strongest healing gifts—if not the strongest—I've ever seen. That, coupled with the fact that she truly  
believed she could make that cat live made the impossible possible."

Severus could almost hear Amelia's voice in his ear._ Nothing is impossible with magic. _Apparently his daughter had absorbed that philosophy from the day she was born.

"Working magic of that caliber, even though she had no idea what she was doing,made it easy for us to find her. As well as any dark magicians out there looking for an  
impressionable powerful magical child to corrupt," Colin went on. "Luckily, we found her first, and the moment we saw her, we knew who she was. We weren't sure how she'd ended up there, though, and we'd considered . . ." he coughed uncomfortably. "I don't know how to put this . . .ah, hell, might as well just say it . . .I apologize for saying this, Severus, but we, ah, thought you might have decided you didn't want the baby and left her there. It happens sometimes when the parents are apart . . ." The Dark Hunter's face was now bright red. "We had to adopt her, we had a responsibility to teach her magic due to our Magician's Oath, and in order to do that we had to go through the system legally. And that's how she came to live with us and be our student."

"I understand now. And I can't blame you for thinking I wanted nothing to do with my child. Others before me would have walked away without a second glance."

"We shouldn't have assumed something like that, though," Jenna sighed. "Amelia was an excellent judge of character, she would never have fallen in love with a man that could have abandoned his own child. Now, of course, it all makes sense."

"Does Arista know of me?" Severus asked softly.

"No. We thought it best not to bring up the subject, and oddly enough, she never really asked. We told her about Amelia, showed her pictures, and she seemed content with that."

"I would like to speak with her, explain why I never contacted her. She deserves to know the truth, and I would like to get to know her better. Perhaps when we have dealt with Nightshade we can spend some time together."

"She's a good kid, very advanced for her age, she loves to read. Reads constantly, loves books and animals." Jenna told him.

"Ah. Something she has in common with me," Severus mused, sounding pleased. After that, an awkward silence ensued, until Albus broke it by suggesting that Arista  
might be hungry and should be fetched inside for lunch.

Jenna rose immediately and after the younger magician had departed, Dumbledore turned to Snape and said calmly, "Perhaps, Severus, you could take a walk with Arista after lunch, get acquainted a bit?"

"An excellent idea, Headmaster."

A few minutes later, Jennika returned with Arista in tow. The girl was dressed in a pretty denim skirt and a white eyelet spring blouse with small lilacs embroidered on the sleeves and summer sandals. The phoenix locket rested in the hollow of her throat.

Severus's breath caught. Even indoors, her resemblance to Amelia was pronounced. She was small and slight, just as her mother had been, but appearances were misleading. Amelia had packed a size twelve courage inside a size five body, and Snape was willing to bet all his potions that her daughter would be the same.

"Arista, this is Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster at Hogwarts, and his colleague and Potions Master, Professor Snape," Jenna introduced them.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Arista," Dumbledore beamed at the girl, who flashed him a smile of her own.

"How do you do, sirs? Pleased to meet you." She came forward to shake their hands.

Severus took her hand in his own, meeting her eyes for the first time. They were not Amelia's turquoise, but his own deep velvet black.

_So, she has her mother's face, but my eyes_, he thought, returning her tentative smile with one of his own. _Perhaps there is something of me in her, after all._

**A/N: this takes place inbetween books 3 &4 of HP.**


	11. Arista Eileen Snape

﻿Arista politely nibbled at the sandwiches and snacks, for though she was hungry, she  
was unable to resist darting sidelong glances at the tall man seated to the left of the old white-bearded wizard. He seemed familiar to her somehow, as if she'd seen him before, though this was the first time they'd ever met. His name was the same as her own, and she wondered if they were distantly related somehow. Snape was a popular name in Yorkshire England, she'd read.

The nagging feeling in the back of her mind persisted all through lunch, until the  
moment that Professor Snape offered to take her on a tour of the gardens. The slight  
hesitancy in his speech, as if he was unsure of her reaction, coupled with the way he tilted his head, clicked in her brain.

_Why, he's the man in my locket!_ she realized with a jolt of amazement. _The one  
holding my mother and smiling. _Her hand moved automatically to stroke the locket, she often touched the necklace for comfort. He was the "Sev" of the locket, she was certain of it, she'd stared at the portrait often enough over the years, imagining what her parents had been like.

_That's my father sitting across from me,_ she thought in a kind of dazed wonder_. My  
real father. I'm not an orphan any more._ Hard on the heels of that thought came another, less pleasant one._ If he's my father, why didn't he ever come and see me all these years? Could the spell Jenna said my mom put on the locket to hide me from enemies have kept him away too? _  
She liked that explanation better than the only other reason—that he didn't care to  
know his own daughter. What kind of man didn't like his own child? He had certainly loved her mother, if the sentiment on the back of the locket and the portrait were anything to go by.

She glanced over at her teachers, wondering if they knew the Potions Master was her  
father. Something in their manner told her they knew as well as she did. She had always been able to read people that way, a legacy inherited from her mother, who'd been the strongest empath in the Dark Hunters.

From the slightly awkward way Jenna and Colin were behaving, Arista assumed that  
the knowledge was recent, perhaps as recent as her own deduction. That made sense, for when she'd asked them about her parents when she'd first gone to live with them in the Poconos, they'd only spoken of her mother and her father had never been mentioned. Intuitively she'd sensed they didn't know anything much about him, and thus she'd never asked again. She had naturally assumed he was dead too, otherwise why would she have been sent to an orphanage?

To find him here, alive and well, was disconcerting to say the least. Questions  
burned the tip of her tongue, but she had better manners than to just blurt them out in the  
middle of lunch, where everyone could hear. They were personal issues, things she would talk about with no one else except the professor.

Thus it was with relief that she accepted Snape's invitation to accompany him on a  
tour of the grounds. She followed obediently on his heels, reflecting that he was much taller in person than he looked in his portrait.

Taller and more imposing. The man in the locket was young and happy, he looked  
easy to talk to. She had often imagined conversations between them, as a matter of fact. But the stern professor in his black robes seemed about as approachable as a stone statue.

Or a porcupine, curled in a ball, bristling with prickles. The prickles were a defense  
to keep others at bay, but perhaps if she were patient, he would uncurl and tell her about himself.

She hid a grin, wondering what he would think if he knew she'd just compared him  
to a porcupine. But the comparison was apt, she knew that instinctively. The animal  
comparison was a game she played when she met strangers, it helped to set her at ease, since she'd always found it easier to understand animals than people. Professor Dumbledore reminded her of a kindly old owl, wise and knowing.

_A porcupine then, well I know how to deal with porcupines. You just have to know  
how to handle them the right way, respectfully and gently_.

Thus, despite the fact that her curiosity was killing her, she did not start off  
questioning Professor Snape right away. She remained silent, waiting for him to speak first.

He pointed out several types of roses, a hyacinth, then he halted beside a large  
lavender bush, which filled the air with its calming scent. Arista inhaled deeply, she loved the aroma of the purple flowers.

"Lavender. It has many properties, especially to calm and soothe the body and the  
mind. It can be used as an oil to disinfect cuts and also as a tea to help people sleep  
dreamlessly. A necessary ingredient in any sleeping draft." He broke off his lecture to eye her thoughtfully, then said, "This was your mother's favorite plant, did you know that?"

"No, sir. Colin and Jenna—they told me to call them that—" she added when he  
frowned at her in disapproval for addressing her teachers so familiarly. "—told me a few things about her, but not that."

"You look so very much like her," he murmured, almost to himself. "So very much."

"Everyone says that. But then, you'd know best wouldn't you?" She looked right at  
him and in her eyes was an unmistakable recognition.

Snape stared back at her in astonishment. "Do you know who I am? But they said

She nodded. "You're Professor Snape. But you're also my mom's Sev—the one  
who gave her this locket." She held it up so it caught the light. "I recognized you from your picture. You're my father, aren't you?"

"I am. You're my daughter, the daughter I never knew I had, until today."

Arista's brow wrinkled in puzzlement. "My mom never told you? Why not?"

"I wish I knew. I can only surmise that she wished to inform me in person, rather  
than a letter. Walk with me this way, if you please. There's a bench nearby, we can talk there comfortably." He led her over to a stone bench carved with hummingbirds and owls. He gestured for her to sit down.

She did so and he settled beside her. Then he cleared his throat and said softly,  
awkwardly, "I know this must make you feel . . .bewildered and confused, perhaps. Neither of us was expecting this, to say the least." He shook his head, his mouth twitching into a half-smile. "Your mother was always fond of surprises. Both of giving them and receiving them. The last time she wrote to me, she mentioned a surprise she had for me. At the time, I assumed it meant she would come to visit me after she'd finished her case. She had promised to return to me someday, you see. But now I think she meant you, Arista. In fact, I'm almost certain of it."

"But why make such a big secret about it? People have babies every day."

"How much do you know about your mother's last case, the one she was working on  
before she died?" he asked suddenly.

Arista considered for a moment. "Well, I know she was working on a top secret case  
for the government, trying to bring in a really wicked necromancer named Livia Nightshade. Nightshade's on the Most Wanted List for practicing dark magic, murder, kidnapping, and a bunch of other crimes. Colin told me that just before we came here, he said it was important to know your enemies."

"He was right. Knowing your enemy is half the battle." Snape agreed. "So you know  
how dangerous Nightshade was, and that she was most likely the reason your mom kept your existence a secret. Amelia knew Nightshade would seek out anything she could use against your mother, and you were the most obvious target—a helpless little baby. Amelia's first priority would have been to protect you, and that was why she hid you among Muggles, because that would be the last place a dark sorceress would look. She enchanted the locket, placed it on you, and only then did she continue with her mission. I think, and your guardians agree with me, that she meant your placement with that orphanage to be a temporary thing. She would have returned to you when she finished her case and brought you here to see me. But she never got the chance."

"Because Nightshade killed her."

Snape nodded heavily. "Yes. And that is why I never knew of you and why you  
remained at that orphanage until the Flynns adopted you. I wish it had been otherwise, but we can't always have what we want, now can we?" He gazed at her, loss and longing in his dark eyes. "Understand, if I had even_ suspected_ that you had been born, nothing short of death would have stopped me from coming for you. _Nothing_."

"I believe you," she said, sensing the utter sincerity in his voice and his manner. He  
was not lying, he truly meant every word he said. She took his hand in hers, and her  
empathic talent could feel the truth of his words when she touched him. It was a great relief, to know that she was not unwanted, had not been cast aside like an old shoe.

"Sometimes, when I was little, I used to dream about what you were both like. Most  
of us kids did, it was like a game, wondering what your real parents were like and what kind of life you'd have had with them. Most of the kids there didn't even have a picture to go by, just their imagination. Some of them weren't even sure if their parents were dead, only that they'd been given up," she recited, a far away look in her eyes.

"I was lucky in a way, because even though I thought you two were dead, at least I  
had the locket. Because of that I never had to wonder if my parents loved each other or whatever. The locket said it all. Mrs. Dowd, the orphanage manager, said it was very  
special and I should never take it off. Of course, she didn't know it couldn't be taken off, not until two years ago. I always knew the locket was special, because whenever I touched it, it felt warm and there was this feeling of love and peace it gave me. I used to sleep with my hand on it when I was little, and I was never afraid of the dark."

_Amelia must have put some kind of empathic charm on it,_ Severus thought dazedly_.  
Just in case she couldn't return, she wanted our daughter to grow up knowing we loved her, so she'd never wonder about it._

"That sounds like something your mother would do. She was an amazing woman,  
one of the best magicians I've ever known. Did they treat you all right at that place? They didn't hurt you or anything? Because if they did . . ." the warning in his tone was  
unmistakable.

"No, they weren't mean to us or anything. They didn't beat us, or starve us, or lock  
us in closets with rats, like all those movies about orphanages," Arista reassured him. "Mr. and Mrs. Dowd liked kids, they couldn't have any of their own. They were state funded, and Pennsylvania Child Welfare Services did unannounced inspections all the time. The Dyfus people would show up out of the blue and one of the things they insisted on was talking to all of us orphans, by ourselves. The social workers asked us all kinds of questions, to make sure we weren't being abused or anything like that, and if we liked school, and were getting regular doctors appointments.

"We really couldn't complain too much. I mean, the food wasn't great, but you  
could eat it, and most of our clothes were hand-me-downs, but they weren't falling apart, and we got presents on Christmas and our birthday, so it was pretty good. We even got secondhand books from the library, and that was the best of all."

She emphasized the word "books" the way another child might have said  
"Quidditch", showing him quite clearly that she'd inherited his love of the written word.  
He was relieved that her years in the Muggle orphanage weren't as bad as he'd  
envisioned, at least she hadn't endured the nightmare of his own childhood. He wouldn't have wished that on anyone, especially not his precious child.

"Colin tells me that you're a very talented Healer. He said your first act of magic was  
bringing a cat back to life after it had been run over. I don't know where you inherited that gift, maybe from your mother's side, because I don't know anyone in my family who could heal like that."

"Must have come from somewhere, I guess," she shrugged nonchalantly. "I'd just  
turned eleven, it was a day or so after my birthday, in fact. I'd wanted a cat for my birthday, but pets weren't allowed, 'cause some of the kids were allergic and stuff. So I got a cat encyclopedia and a stuffed one instead. Some of the others kids were making fun of me, asking how I liked my new kitty, stupid stuff like that. Tommy Barnes threatened to throw it in the fishpond, but I threatened to deck him one and he didn't, he was always a little crybaby. A couple of the older boys were hanging out down by the road, and they thought it'd be funny to play a joke on me. They ran up laughing and said, "Hey, Arista, you know how you always wanted a cat for your birthday? Well, maybe old Dowd will let you have this one, since nobody else'd want it! Go take a look, it's down by the fence row."

"So I went to see. There was a marmalade tabby lying on the side of the road, it had  
just been hit by a car. I knew that because when I touched her, she was still warm. She was dead, but when I touched her, I could feel her somehow. A part of her spirit was still there.  
I could feel it hovering over me, trying to get back into its body. I could hear it meowing  
in my head. At first I thought I was going crazy, but then I just felt so bad for it, I didn't care about me any more. I wanted to help it, so I put my hands on its body. My sight went all blurry and then I could see inside the cat's body. Bones were broken and she had some internal injuries. I thought about trying to heal what was wrong and suddenly I knew how. I concentrated really hard and it just happened. There was this white light coming out of my hands and when I blinked it was gone and the cat was alive.

"I remember looking at her and laughing, "You were dead and now you're alive."  
It was like a miracle and somehow I'd healed her. It was the most amazing feeling. When the other kids came over, I told them the cat wasn't dead after all, just stunned, because how else could I explain a dead cat coming back to life when I'd touched her? But I knew that was what I'd done."

"Then the Flynns found you and became your guardians, am I right?"

"Uh-huh. You should have seen their faces when they first saw me. I thought Jenna  
was going to pass out right there. I guess it was kind of like seeing my mom's ghost." Snape nodded, for he'd had much the same reaction. "When they told me I was a magician and took me to live with them, Colin told me that my healing the cat that way was pretty near impossible, even for wizards. Then how'd I do it? I asked. Jenna says that my healing gift is so strong and I wanted so much to make the cat alive that somehow the magic did it. She also thinks that because the cat had just died, I could feel its spirit and that's how I was able to put the two back together. If it had been dead any longer, nothing could have brought it back."

"They are correct, in a sense. Although your mother was fond of quoting to me that  
nothing is impossible with magic." Severus related, shifting slightly on the bench. Then he said in a rather sharp tone, "You do know that raising the dead is not something you ought to do, no matter how powerful you are? Death is part of the natural order of things. We are born and we die and that is what is meant to be. Tampering with that is most unwise, and therefore forbidden. It disrupts the Balance between life and death, and consequently good and evil," Snape lectured quietly. "Only a dark wizard considers himself above the Law of the Universe, only he is arrogant enough to think the rules don't apply to him and that he may break them with impunity. Do you understand what I'm saying, young lady?"

"I'm not sure. You think I'm like a dark magician because I resurrected a cat?"

"No, listen to me!" he ordered with a hint of exasperation in his tone. "You did that  
unknowingly, and with the best of intentions. You can't be held responsible for an honest mistake. Evil lies in the intent as well as the deed. The necromancer who summons the dead from the grave knows he does wrong, that he disrupts the Balance, yet he chooses to cast the spell anyway. All I'm saying, Arista Snape, is that you must be careful. With a gift like yours, it's too easy to misuse it, and do great harm while trying to do great good."

"I promised Colin and Jenna when I apprenticed with them I'd never resurrect  
anything again. They said there was a time for all things and not even a magician who can heal has the right to change that," Arista said solemnly.

"That is a very important lesson. See that you never forget it. As a Healer you may  
save those who are a breath away from death, but once they are gone, you must let them go. Or else be guilty of practicing dark magic." Severus stressed, eyeing her sternly.

"I'll remember, sir. I would never disgrace my mother's memory by becoming a  
dark magician. Or you, either," she added. Then she looked off to the left across the  
expanse of lawn to the huge shadow of the Whomping Willow. "What's that tree over  
there? It looks. . .weird."

"That's the Whomping Willow. It was planted on the grounds the year I started  
school, twenty-three years ago. It's partly sentient, and will strike at anything that comes in range of its branches. I'd advise you to stay away from it, it can kill you if it hits you just right."

"Why do you have it here, if it's so dangerous?"

"It was planted because one of the students in my year was under a werewolf curse.  
The tree was made to contain him when he transformed and to keep other students safe from him."

"Oh. I've been reading about werewolves, there's a new potion you can make to  
contain a werewolf's rages, so he doesn't become an insane beast. It's called the Wolfsbane Potion."

"I know, I've made it on several occasions. It allows the werewolf to transform to  
a full wolf form and sleep through the full moon. So far, it's the closest we've come to a cure for lycanthropy."

"Lycanthropy's a disease, right? I mean, when a person is bitten by a werewolf, he  
infects the victim. The poison's in the saliva, like rabies. And once it's in the bloodstream it attacks all the healthy cells, like a virus, until it either destroys them or mutates them."

"Correct. It's a particularly nasty disease, over half of those who survive the initial  
bite go mad eventually."

"I wonder . . .if I studied a drop of werewolf blood, maybe I could figure out a way  
to neutralize the disease somehow with my healing powers," Arista mused.

Severus looked doubtful. "Many doctors have tried and failed to cure lycanthropy."

"But we _should_ be able to cure it," she argued. "What magic made, it can unmake.  
How many of those doctors can do what I did with the cat?"

"None, I'd wager. But they have years more experience and schooling than you,  
Arista. What makes you think you can succeed where they failed?"

"It doesn't hurt to try," she stated with a determined look in her eye. "What have I  
got to lose?"

"Hmmm. It'll be an interesting summer project for you, if you're serious about it,"  
Snape remarked. "I'll give you access to my library, I have several texts there on  
werewolves and you can do research in the school library as well." He didn't think she would be able to come close to a cure, even with the Wolfsbane Potion to draw upon. Older, wiser, and more experienced master healers had tried for years to effect a cure and they had all failed. But he didn't want to dampen her enthusiasm. He enjoyed watching students with inquisitive minds, ones who were willing to take intuitive leaps of logic, and were motivated by a love of knowledge. If anything, the project would keep her busy and out of trouble during her stay.

"May I also have the use of your potions lab? I might need to test some elixirs."

He considered, then at last he nodded. "Yes, on one condition. You are to put  
everything away just as you found it, no excuses. I don't tolerate sloppiness in my classroom ever. Any ingredients you need you may ask Mr. Filch, the steward, to fetch you from the school stores. If you need anything rare, you can come to me, and I'll give you what you need from my personal stores, if I'm here. Otherwise, you'll have to wait. I can give you the recipe for the Wolfsbane Potion, though I strongly suggest you not try it unless I'm with you, it's not a potion for novices. Are you clear on those rules, young lady?"

"Crystal. I'll be careful, I promise. Colin's a neat freak too, so I'm used to it. Besides, Potions is my second best subject."

"Your first being medicine, I suppose?"

"Right. And third, well it's a toss-up between Care of Magical Creatures and Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Please tell me you don't plan on becoming a Dark Hunter someday," he said, a note  
of alarm creeping into his voice.

"Um, I thought about it two years ago. But you have to move around a lot, wherever  
the U.S.M.A. sends you, and I hate that. And you have to be really good at combat spells and I can cast them, but I'd much rather be healing than fighting."

"Good. We need healers as much as we do dark wizard catchers." Snape said,  
relieved beyond measure that she would not follow in her mother's footsteps, and he'd have to risk losing his child to a necromancer as well. Once had been more than enough.

"Are there any kids here now?"

"A few students do remain here over the summer, mostly fifth and sixth years,  
completing internships with one professor or another. Then there are a few orphans, who have no permanent home to go back to, and of course there are those who have failed a subject and need to repeat it," he answered. Then he added with a faint sneer, "You'll meet one of those last students in my classroom, he's around your age, name's Neville Longbottom. His grandmother was most dissatisfied with his Potions grades last term and she wants him to take some remedial lessons with me." He rolled his eyes and she heard him mutter, "Just the way I wanted to spend my summer, tutoring a boy who's as thick as a brick wall and who doesn't listen to a word I say." Then he continued in a more normal tone, "Longbottom is _not_ allowed to use my classroom unsupervised. I shudder to think what new disaster might occur if he were left alone there. The whole school might blow up. Therefore, when I'm not with him, another teacher will be."

"Where is your classroom, anyway?"

"Right below the Great Hall, in the dungeon. It's safer there. I have a map of the  
castle I'll give you until you learn your way around, this is bigger than what you're used to." He drew his wand and tapped it against his hand. A rolled up piece of parchment appeared in it. He unrolled it and began pointing out the various features. "The rooms marked in red are off-limits to students, the ones in blue are the dormitories, and you may go anywhere with a green label. The staircases here are enchanted and they move all the time, so you'll want to watch out for that. If one moves while you're  
on it, the map will show you where you are so you can find your way back."

"Good, because this place is so huge, I'd probably get lost trying to find my way to  
breakfast," she said, taking the map gratefully.

"You needn't worry about that, Arista. I'll tap on your door at 7:45 since breakfast  
is served promptly at 8:00 in the Great Hall. You'll be sleeping in Slytherin's dormitory,  
which is next to my quarters, your things are already there. No students from my House are staying over this summer, so you'll have the common room to yourself. Oh, and the password to get into the portrait hole is dragon's breath."

"Do you live here all year?"

"No, usually only when school is in session. During the summer I go back to my  
house in London. This year is an exception, since I'll be assisting your guardians with  
finding that accursed Nightshade." The utter hatred in his voice when he spoke Nightshade's name sent chills down Arista's spine.

"How long do you think it'll take for you to find her?"

"That's difficult to predict, but when I do find her—she can't hide forever—I'll  
make her wish she never crossed the ocean. For what she has done, there can be no mercy, and I shall hunt her to her death."

Arista merely nodded. "Colin and Jenna have orders to kill too, if she resists arrest.  
The Department of Defense has declared Nightshade a rogue, the most dangerous criminal on record. I guess she would have to be, in order to kill my mom."

"Perhaps, but I think she got lucky. Be that as it may, she'll discover I'm just as  
dangerous, to her eternal sorrow," Snape promised.

Looking at him then, his dark eyes bright with the fires of war, grim as winter, Arista  
was glad a thousand times over that he wasn't her enemy. She wouldn't be in Nightshade's shoes for all the world. Snape was positively terrifying when he was furious. He was no porcupine now, but a bronze dragon, and one bent on revenge at that.

If_ he ever looked at me that way, I think I might just die of pure fright. Nightshade,  
you hag of hell, you don't have any clue what you're dealing with. I hope he kicks your ass all the way back to hell_.

Abruptly, Severus regained control over his temper, and the aura of violence  
vanished. "That's enough discussion of Nightshade for one day. Just mentioning her name puts me in a bad mood."

Nightshade not being her favorite topic either, Arista obligingly changed the subject.  
"Was this where you met Mom?"

Severus blinked, though her question didn't really surprise him. It was only natural  
the girl should want to know about her mother, and this was a question only he could  
answer. "No, we met in a hidden glen in the Highlands, quite a ways north of here. It used to be my favorite spot to go and think. Once this business with Nightshade is settled, perhaps I'll take you there." He hadn't been back there in over a year, and since Amelia left, no one else had ever set foot there.

"I'd like that," she said quietly. They remained silent for some minutes, then Arista  
said wistfully, "I wish I could have known her."

"So do I," he responded, not looking at her. "I would give everything I have for one  
more hour with her."

Arista peered at him, and saw for the barest flicker of an instant, the terrible longing  
in his eyes, longing mingled with sorrow so deep that not even thirteen years had muted it.

_Why, he still misses her, after all this time. He's been as lonely as I have, wishing for  
something that could never be. Except a part of my wish came true, after all. I have my father back. _"At least I still have you," she whispered, then she threw her arms about him and hugged him. It was pure impulse, because he was so lonely and hurting and she had never been able to stand anyone suffering that way. His pain radiated right through her shields and she did the only thing she could think of to make it stop—she wrapped her arms about him and held on tight.

Caught completely off guard, Severus stiffened. He hadn't been hugged like this in  
thirteen years and he'd almost forgotten how good it felt. The last time anyone had held him that way had been Amelia, when she had bid him goodbye before leaving him forever.

Now he gazed down at his daughter, child of their extraordinary love, and he allowed  
the ice he'd sheathed his heart in to thaw. He put his arms around her and held her close, snuggled on his lap as if she were a child of three and not thirteen.

They remained that way for a long time, drawing comfort from each other, until at  
last he drew away. "Your mother was the very best thing in my life, and I will never forget her. But at least she left me you, Arista Eileen Snape. I look at you and I see my Amelia, and it's almost like having her here again. She lives forever in you, child."

"You really loved her, didn't you?"

"More than anything in the world, except for her daughter." He smiled at her, and  
the throbbing ache in his heart eased and began to fade, for he was no longer alone.

**A/N: don't go away, there's lots more to come with Sev and Arista including a reckoning with Nightshade, saving a mermaid, potions class, well you get the picture. A huge thanks to all my dedicated reviewers!**


	12. Remedial Potions and Mermaid's Blood

**Remedial Potions and Mermaid's Blood**

**﻿Three weeks later**:

Arista entered Snape's Potions classroom carrying her notebook and the recipe for  
the Wolfsbane Potion in one hand. All the research she'd done over the past three weeks in the Hogwarts library and her father's private collection had led unerringly to this potion. She had a feeling that the Wolfsbane Potion held a key to finding a cure, and if she could recreate it, she might be able to figure out a way to use it along with her own powers to effect a permanent cure.

That was why she was here this morning, because her father had offered to  
demonstrate the proper way to mix the complicated potion, which he'd stressed should only be attempted with a master's supervision.

Arista's previous education under Jenna and Colin Flynn had fostered a degree of  
independence that was not often found in a Hogwarts student, who was accustomed to structured classroom methods. Dark Hunters were often solitary individuals, relying only on their wits and magic to capture criminals. Thus they taught their apprentice to be self- sufficient, alert, and to trust her instincts.

Arista had proved an apt pupil, smart enough to work with minimal supervision, but  
not afraid to go for help if something went wrong. One glance at the Wolfsbane Potion told her she didn't possess the necessary skill or experience to brew it, and she wasn't foolish enough to try and attempt an unfamiliar potion all on her own, when anything could happen.

Magic was often unpredictable, she'd learned that the hard way when a flying potion had exploded on her, burning off half her hair.

She would take no such risk with this potion, whose ingredients were rare and costly.  
Such impulsiveness would never impress her father, who seemed to value obedience and common sense in his pupils. He had already given her small tests to see whether or not she was the equal of a third-year Hogwarts student, and had pronounced her potions expertise as above average, but her technique could use more practice, as could her critical thinking skills.

"I want you to think about **why **a solution has certain ingredients in it, not just parrot  
back formulas at me. I know them already and anyone with half a brain and time can  
memorize a recipe. What you need to learn is the reason why a potion works, the cause and effect of each ingredient. Only when you understand that can you even begin to alter an existing recipe and create something entirely new. _That _is the difference between a textbook potions student and a truly gifted one. Textbook students see only the formula in the book, but a master of potions sees the relationships within each formula and the possibilities of creating a new solution," he told her after one of his little exams.

She longed to impress him, to win his approval, for he was as critical of her efforts  
as he was of any of his students, and he did not spare her his tongue when she made a foolish mistake. Though he was less abrasive with her than some of his other students, such as Neville Longbottom, whom Snape believed didn't apply himself enough. Laziness was a cardinal sin in his book.

In a way, her father's methods were not all that different from a Dark Hunter's.  
Neither of the Flynns believed in coddling their apprentice and they were strict and  
demanding when they needed to be. "Get it right the first time, or else quit whining," was a favorite expression of Colin's, who taught her self-defense and shielding magics. Jenna was not as quick to deliver a reprimand, but she too was a thorough and competent teacher, drilling her pupil endlessly until the spells were second nature.

When she walked into the classroom that morning, she half-expected to see her  
father sitting calmly at his desk, the ingredients for the Wolfsbane Potion standing at  
attention in front of him, waiting impatiently for her arrival.

Instead she found Snape's desk empty and the only other occupant a fat boy of about  
her own age with short dark hair and a round moon-like face, dressed in a blue shirt and black pants, wearing a black wizard robe with the Gryffindor crest. His head jerked up in alarm at her approach, then relaxed when he caught sight of her, a mere girl in jeans and a mint green top.

"Hello. Are you taking Remedial Potions too?" he asked shyly. "I didn't think there  
was anyone worse at it than I am."

"Uh, no, I'm actually a-a transfer student from America," she improvised hastily.  
"I'm doing an extra credit project for the summer."

"Oh. You must be really smart, to take an advanced class with Professor Snape."  
Neville stammered. "I'm Neville Longbottom."

She came forward to shake his hand. "Arista. Arista Snape."

"Did you say _S-Snape_? Are you _related_ to the professor?" he gasped, looking at her  
as if she'd claimed to be related to a scorpion.

Arista nodded, fighting back a grin. "He's my dad. Why?"

Neville went pale. "He's your _father_? I didn't even know he was married." He blushed bright red. "Are your parents, uh, like divorced?"

"No, but my mom died when I was born. It's a long story, I'll tell you another time. He ought to be here any minute, and I need to get set up, before he starts growling at me."

"Right." He quickly sat down at his desk and took out his potions book.

Arista winked at him, then began laying out her notes next to the cauldron her father  
had given her for this experiment. She lined up all of her apparatus, her scalpels and knives, mortar and pestle, beakers and bowls, measuring spoons, and stirrers, neatly on her desk. He'd do inspection of her apparatus first, then give her the ingredients she'd need. She waited at her desk for several minutes, but Snape did not appear.

_That's strange. He's usually never late for a class with me. I wonder if it has to do  
with Nightshade? Maybe they've found out some new information_. She certainly hoped so, because thus far, the evil old hag had managed to give the slip to both Flynns and her father for the past three weeks.

Next to her Neville was muttering a formula with increasing panic. "Eye of newt,  
snake blood, ground wormwood—no, wait, I forgot the powdered goldenrod again!" he groaned. "I'm _never _going to remember how this Snake Charm Potion goes, and he'll kill me if I get it wrong this time."

Arista had learned that potion last year as part of her accelerated potions class with  
Jennika. She'd had no trouble memorizing the ingredients, but then that was one of her strengths. "Need some help?" she volunteered.

"Please," he looked pathetically grateful. "I thought I had it down last night, but  
when I try and remember it now, it's all jumbled up in my head. He's going to quiz me on it and I won't remember anything, and I'll look like an idiot, same as I always do in his class."

"Don't worry about that, just listen to me, okay?" Arista walked over to him. "You  
need to calm down, you're gonna hyperventilate if you keep breathing like that. Now close your eyes and take a deep breath. Good, now let it out, slowly. Now do it again. Again. Okay, open your eyes."

Neville did so and this time he was able to breathe normally.

"You've got major test anxiety, you know that?" she remarked. "I've never seen anybody with it that bad."

"T-that's not just test anxiety, it's Professor _Snape_ anxiety," Neville whispered, darting a fearful glance at the door.

Arista snickered. "Aww, come on, you can't be serious. I know he can be sarcastic  
and strict as a poker, but he won't beat you or anything. What's the worst he can do? Give you a detention? Tell your parents?"

"My gran's away in Egypt studying mummies, and even if he did send her an owl,  
she'd just tell him to work me harder," the boy sighed. "It's just that I can't take him yelling at me, I turn all to jelly inside."

"Uh-huh. I don't like it myself, but he's doing it for a reason."

"What reason? To torture us?"

"No. He's trying to distract you. To test how well you respond under pressure. It's  
an old Dark Hunter trick. My teachers used that method on me too. It's because you need to learn to concentrate when you make potions, and not let anything break your  
concentration. Not even somebody yelling over your shoulder."

"But how can I concentrate when he's insulting me every other sentence?"

"Just tune them out. He's goading you to try harder, only you're taking it personally.  
Don't do that. Just say yes, sir, and then listen to the instructions he's giving you. _That's _what's important, not the insults."

"Easy for you to say. He probably doesn't insult you all that much, since you're his  
daughter."

"Boy, are you wrong! You think he goes easy on me 'cause I'm his kid? No way!  
He's on my back twice as fast, because he expects more from me. I'm the Potion Master's daughter, remember? Yesterday I added a bit too much gillyweed to my Waterbreathing Draft and he asked me if I learned to count in kindergarten like everyone else, because otherwise he'd send me back there until I learned that two comes before three."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"Sure it does. Enough so next time I'll remember the correct amount of gillyweed."

She tapped his potions book, opening it to the page on the Snake Charm Potion. "Now, as far as you memorizing the right order of these ingredients, I know a trick that might help you. Ever thought about using a mnemonic?"

"A mne—_what_?"

"A mnemonic," she repeated. "It's a trick to help you memorize lists of items. Like  
ROY G BIV, the spectrum of light from lowest to highest? Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. Didn't your teachers ever show you that in grade school?"

Neville shook his head.

"Well, all you do is make up a sentence where the first letter of each word stands for  
the ingredient you're trying to memorize. Make it something familiar, that way if you forget which ingredient comes first, all you have to do is repeat the sentence. Simple, right?"

"If you say so."

"Here, I'll help you with this one. First ingredient in Snake Charm's eye of newt,  
and second's snake blood, so how about Even Slytherins . . ."

Unknown to them, Professor Snape had opened the door to the classroom about  
halfway through Arista's lecture on mnemonics and was now standing silently by the door, listening to his daughter tutor Neville. _Clever, very clever, Arista my girl. Maybe this will finally penetrate Longbottom's skull. I should have thought of that myself. She's got more patience than I do, though she's drilling him quite relentlessly. Perhaps between the two of us, we can manage to teach Longbottom enough so he can pass my final exam and not kill himself or me in the process_.

He waited until it seemed that Neville had finally grasped the correct sequence with  
the aid of the mnemonic Even Slytherins Get Worried About Snape's Exams. (Eye of newt, snake blood, goldenrod, wormwood, asphodel, snake fangs, and extract of hoarfrost.). Then he swept into the room, cloak swirling dramatically behind him, slamming the door abruptly.

"So sorry to interrupt your little chat fest, Longbottom, but you're here to learn potions, not socialize, am I correct?" he inquired silkily, fixing the boy with one of his famous glares.

"Yes, sir," the boy whispered, then he actually looked Snape in the eye.

Snape lifted an eyebrow at that, then shot a glare at Arista. "I trust, Miss Snape, that  
your apparatus is cleaned and ready for your first draft of Wolfsbane Potion?"

"Yes, sir." She gestured at her instruments. He eyed them critically, then nodded.  
He waved his wand at his desk and several bottles and containers appeared on the desk.

"Fetch what you think you need from my desk while I quiz Mr. Longbottom, then wait for my next instructions." He pointed his wand at Longbottom's text and the book shut itself with a snap.

"Yes, sir." She rose to do as he ordered, winking at Neville behind her hand.

"Mr. Longbottom, can you tell me the correct ingredients for a Snake Charm Potion?  
In order, if you please, and speak up so I can understand you, boy, none of your idiotic  
mumbling now."

Neville cleared his throat, then recited clearly, "Sir, the ingredients for a Snake  
Charm Potion are eye of newt, snake blood, powdered goldenrod . . ."

* * * * * *

Both of them survived their potions lesson, and in fact Neville earned himself a nod  
and a comment of, "If you continue to apply yourself this way, Longbottom, you may  
actually pass this course by the end of the summer. Miracles_ do_ happen occasionally, wouldn't you agree, Miss Snape?"

"Absolutely, sir," she answered, perfectly straight-faced, though she could tell that he suspected her of having a hand in Neville's success.

"The _real _miracle will be if you can actually find that cure you're seeking, young  
lady," he snorted.

"Like you said, sir, miracles _do _happen," she quoted back at him, a mischievous smile on her face.

"Don't get smart with me, miss," he growled, them turned away to gather up his  
notes, his mouth twitching into a reluctant grin. "Dismissed, both of you."

The two silently gathered up their materials then left. Once they were safely down  
the corridor, Neville breathed a sigh of relief and said, "Am I glad that's over! I still can't believe I actually passed that quiz."

"Well, you did, and you earned yourself the equivalent of a gold star from him too. See, you're not all that hopeless, Neville."

"Thanks to you, Arista."

"What? That mnemonic was nothing." She checked her watch. "Got to run, I've got  
self-defense with Colin, and then Madame Pomfrey wanted me to go over some surgery techniques with her before lunch."

Neville was staring at her in horror. "You've got _school_ during summer vacation? I thought you were just working on that potions project."

"I am. Self-defense and the lessons with Madame Pomfrey are just for fun. Well,  
self-defense is mandatory, I practice every morning, but the healing stuff I need to learn if I'm ever going to be a certified Master Healer one day. That's my primary talent." She waved at him over her shoulder. "See you at lunch."

"And I thought** I** had an awful summer with just Potions," Neville said to himself. "I'm glad my parents weren't teachers, if this is how you have to spend your summers!"

* * * * * *

Over lunch, Arista told Neville of her quest to find a cure for werewolves and her  
desire to be a Healer one day. Neville was impressed by her determination, and found himself speaking about his parents, something he almost never did.

Frank and Alice Longbottom had been tortured by the Death Eater Bellatrix  
Lestrange with the Cruciatus Curse until they went mad. They were now residents of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies, and had been for thirteen years. None of the doctors could heal the Longbottoms, who were trapped in their own minds, reliving the horrors Bellatrix made them suffer. They did not even remember their own son.

"And there's nothing anyone can do to help them?" Arista asked.

"No. The Healers have tried everything they know, but nothing works. All the  
healing spells and Memory Charms they cast don't have any effect. My gran says their fear of revealing information to Bellatrix was so strong that they hid themselves inside their minds and now nobody can find them to show them the way out. They were Aurors, both of them."

"Your parents were Dark Hunters?" Arista exclaimed. "Just like my mom. That's  
how she died, a dark witch killed her on her last assignment. But she hid me from  
Nightshade before she went to bring her in, and that's why I grew up in America instead of here. I was raised by Muggles in an orphanage, I never knew my parents until I came here this summer and met my father."

Neville whistled. "Bet_ that_ was a shock."

"Uh, you could say that," Arista giggled. "For him more than me, since I look a lot  
like my mom and he never even knew I was born. My mom was going to tell him, but then she got killed. But I think he's handling it pretty well." She laughed softly, then said, "Anyway, what happened to that Bellatrix witch?"

"She's in Azkaban for life. At her trial, she admitted everything, said she was proud  
to have done such a service for—for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." Neville said angrily.

"Sounds like a real psycho. Nightshade must be related to her. Probably first  
cousins or something. That's why I'm here, because Nightshade escaped from the States and is hiding somewhere nearby, according to the latest Dark Hunter Intelligence."

Neville gulped, turning pale as a dead fish. "You-you mean the dark witch who  
killed your mom is on the loose over here? Near the _school_?"

"Yeah. My teachers, Colin and Jenna Flynn, are tracking her. They have been, ever  
since she killed my mother, but they've never been able to catch her. She's like a ghost, she vanishes into smoke. But now we know she's here, and she's got less places to hide, so we have a much better shot at capturing her. My dad's helping them, and I hope when they find her, he nails her good. She deserves to die, she's a murderer ten times over, she's even killed little kids," Arista declared fiercely. "If I ever found her, I'd kill her without blinking."

Neville said nothing, simply sipped his goblet of pumpkin juice.

"Sorry, did I shock you? You probably think I'm crazy, talking about killing someone  
like that, but I can't help it. She stole my mom from me and I want her to pay, I want her to suffer the way she's made my dad and me suffer, and all those other people whose lives she ruined. It's not fair, that she's gotten away with murder all these years. I just want her dead."

"I don't blame you. If I ever saw Bellatrix I'd . . .I'd do something horrible to her.  
They say Azkaban's a terrible place, with the dementors and all, but she deserves all that and more for what she did to my parents. I wish she was dead too."

"Too bad we couldn't send her a potion that'd kill her." Arista sympathized. Then  
she lowered her voice and glanced covertly around the room. They were alone in the hall. "It's a good thing none of the adults are here. If they ever heard us talking about  
assassinating people this way, even if they are dark witches, they'd have us both  
committed."

"Like_ they_ wouldn't feel the same if it were their parents."

"Oh, I'm sure they'd understand, but they'd still send us for counseling or whatever.  
We're too young for revenge," Arista said sarcastically. "Too young to understand the  
finality of death. Ha! I'm a Healer, I know all about the finality of death. I fight against it  
every time I heal a patient. I've even beat it once, when I raised a cat from the dead."

"You raised a cat from the _dead_?"

"When I was eleven. It was the first time I ever used magic. I can't ever do it again,  
but that was the best thing I ever did with my healing talent so far."

"Wow! I didn't think that was even possible, bringing something back from the  
dead!" Neville stared at her, awe-struck.

Arista shifted uncomfortably, unused to being under such intense hero-worship. "It's  
not supposed to be, but I didn't know that. I believed I could save her, so I did. But my dad says I'm never to do that again, it's too much like dark magic, and I promised I wouldn't."

"Still . . .I wonder what else you could do with a talent like that?"

Arista looked thoughtful. "I don't know, but . . .maybe someday I could, uh, help your parents. Have they ever been examined by an empath?"

"Uh, no, I don't think so. Why?"

" 'Cause an empath might be able to get past all those barriers in their minds with  
the right kind of magic, if she were strong enough and knew what she was doing. My mom was an empath . . .she could track down any dark wizard ever born, no matter what they did to hide from her. She was famous for it. If she were here . . .she could probably help your parents."

Neville sighed sadly. Then he brightened. "Are you an empath too, Arista?"

"I am. But I don't know how to do half the things she could. I can sense other people's emotions and project my own, but I've never tracked anyone down or gone into anyone's head before. Maybe someday though, when I've found the right teacher . . ."

Neville lifted his glass of pumpkin juice. "Here's to someday."

Arista clinked her goblet against his. "To someday, when all things are possible."  
Then they drank and in their eyes was hope, hope for a future where truth and justice  
would prevail.

* * * * * *

As it turned out, the reason Professor Snape was late for class did indeed have to do  
with new information on Nightshade. Colin's contact in the Auror Department had reported seeing a woman matching Nightshade's description entering a shady pub called Crow's Rest around 5PM last evening. Crow's Rest was a known haunt of several wizards of dubious reputation.

Snape immediately volunteered to follow up on the tip that evening, taking Colin  
along for backup at the American wizard's insistence. "You don't want to confront her  
alone, Severus. She's too dangerous not to take along someone to watch your back, and she's our priority besides."

"Fine. But I want first shot at her, if she's there," Snape insisted.

"Agreed. Now let's go and find this Crow's Rest, before she gets away." Colin said,  
frowning in puzzlement. "My Disapparate spell's not working for some blasted reason."

"You can't Disapparate on school grounds, Flynn," Snape reminded him.

"Oh. Forgot about that. Good thing we've got alternate transportation. Fireflash!" the Dark Hunter bellowed.

The bronze appeared in the air above them, then glided down and settled to a landing  
in the courtyard, just before the entrance hall. He swiveled his head around to grin at Colin.

"You called, kemo sabe?"

"We need your wings, Flash. There's been a Nightshade sighting."

The dragon bared his fangs. "Hop on then." He lowered his head and looked at  
Snape. "Long time no see, Sev. Still remember our last flight?"

"How could I forget?" Snape smiled thinly. "Let's go catch us a necromancer, dragon. We can reminisce later."

"Just tell me where to go, Potions Master," Fireflash huffed, breathing a cone of purple mist over them. He extended a foreleg for them to mount.

They departed the school grounds in a roar of wind, leaving several trees bare of foliage and a decapitated topiary griffin in their wake.

* * * * * *

That evening it began to rain, first a light sprinkle, but after an hour it turned into a  
major downpour, coming down in silvery sheets and the wind was blowing like a banshee, whipping the House pennants on the Quidditch pitch to shreds.

Dumbledore, Arista, and Jenna were having dinner at the staff table along with  
Professor Trelawney, who announced she'd Seen Arista's arrival at the school a week before in her crystal ball.

"You were wearing the wings of a dragon, child," she proclaimed mysteriously.

"Well, I did come on the back of a bronze dragon," Arista said, uncertain how to react to the owlish Divinations teacher, with her gauzy costumes, thick glasses, and distracted air. She seemed to always be peering at something over your shoulder.  
_She acts like she's not really here_, the girl thought uneasily. _Or at least her body's  
here, but her mind's off somewhere else. Like maybe another plane of existence. Weird. Gives me the creeps. _

Too well-mannered to ever show her unease, Arista smiled politely at Trelawney and began to eat her roast beef and mashed potatoes.

They had just begun on the dessert course, a lovely blueberry pie with whipped  
cream, when the door to the hall burst open and Neville rushed in, soaking wet and gasping for breath.

Everyone stared at the boy for a moment.

Then Dumbledore said, "Is there a problem, Neville?"

"Yes, Professor. Hagrid sent me to get Arista. He needs her to heal a mermaid that's  
been hurt really bad. Bleeding all over . . .Hagrid can't stop the bleeding . . .she could die . . ."

Arista was on her feet in a flash. "Where is she?" She flung an apologetic glance  
at the older wizards. "Excuse me, dinner was great, thanks. Neville, is she by the Black Lake?"

"Yeah. Hagrid's with her with a lamp. I ran all the way here, the wind's too strong to use a broom."

"That's okay, we don't need one." Arista pointed a finger at one of the chairs. "_Equus magica!" _The chair blurred, becoming a Thoroughbred stallion. "C'mon, Neville!" she cried, mounting the snorting red horse in one easy leap.

"B-but I don't know how to ride!" Neville protested.

"Here," she gestured again, and Neville found himself floating onto the horse's back.  
"Just hang on, okay?" Then she dug her heels into the stallion and yelled, "Hee-yah!"  
The stallion sprang away like a shot, Neville white-faced and clinging for dear life  
to Arista, right through the open hall doors and out into the rainswept night.

The rain was so heavy Arista could barely see three feet in front of her, but luckily,  
Hagrid's lantern was so big it could be spotted all the way from the lake.

Arista urged her magic horse towards it at a reckless pace, thanking her lucky stars  
she'd taken riding lessons in Texas a year ago at Jenna's insistence. At least she knew how to stay on a horse at a dead run. Poor Neville was bouncing all over the place, shivering and whimpering.

"Grip with your legs, Neville," she called back. "Sit up straight and wrap your legs  
around his belly."

"I'm trying, but it's slippery."

"Just do the best you can. And quit squeezing me so hard! I can't breathe."

"Sorry." His hands relaxed a bit, enough so she could get some air in her lungs.

She shifted her weight slightly, her hands wrapped in a death grip on the horse's  
mane. "Next time remind me to conjure some tack before I go riding," she said ruefully. "It makes riding ten times easier in the rain."

"Are we there yet?" Neville asked, brushing water out of his eyes.

"Almost. Good thing this isn't a real horse, we'd have broken our necks running like  
this in the dark." The gleam of Hagrid's lantern blazed brighter through the lashing curtain of rain.

The magically transfigured steed took the sudden dips in terrain and the wet footing  
in stride, bringing them to the edge of the Black Lake in eight minutes, a record no ordinary horse could have equaled.

"Whoa!" Arista ordered, and the horse slid to an abrupt halt. The girl was thrown  
forward onto the horse's neck, but managed to keep her seat.

Neville, unprepared for the horse's sudden stop, flew backward over the stallion's  
tail and landed with a thump on the soggy ground.

"You okay?" Arista called, sliding off the horse.

"Fine," Neville said shakily, picking himself up.

"Arista? That you, girl?" Hagrid boomed.

"It's me, Hagrid," she answered, stepping into the circle of lantern light.

The big gamekeeper was crouched down at the very edge of the lake, one huge hand  
cupping a small form. Pale hair the color of seafoam drifted over Hagrid's fingers, and so did streams of dark green blood. "She's in a bad way, Arista. Somethin' attacked her, she don't know what, an' it tore her up bad . . ."

Arista was at the injured mermaid's side in an instant. "Put her back in the water, Hagrid. She'll dehydrate else," she ordered.

The big man did as she ordered, lowering the nearly comatose mermaid back into the lake. "Now what? You can't get in there, you'll drown with the water this high."

"Good thing I brewed up a Waterbreathing Draft yesterday." Arista said, then  
summoned it to her with a snap of her fingers. The aqua bottle appeared in her hand in a blue flash.

She uncorked the stopper and gulped the contents, making a face. "Ugh! Tastes like  
dead fish." Then she winced as gills sprouted on either side of her neck. "At least I won't drown though."

She kicked off her shoes and waded into the water. "Ahhh! It's **freezing**!" her teeth  
began to chatter uncontrollably. _Don't think about that now. That's not important. Just save the mermaid,_ she instructed herself firmly, forcing herself to dive straight into the icy water.

The shock made her gasp, it was as if a dozen icy needles stabbed her all at once. She swam out to where Hagrid was holding the mermaid.

Blood was still pumping into the water, she could feel its warmth ooze over her  
hands when she grasped the mermaid to her, cradling her in one arm. "I've got her, Hagrid."

The waves bobbed them up and down gently. Then she thrust her consciousness  
outward, touching the faint flickering mind of the mermaid. "Shhh. You're going to be  
okay, I promise."

"Help me . . .please . . ."

"I am. Now just relax . . ." Arista soothed, releasing the shields over her healing talent.

It came with a swift rush, liquid fire arcing up through her hands and into the  
mermaid, outlining the stricken creature with a brilliant corona of fiery white light.  
Arista did not know how long she remained in the water, cradling the mermaid,  
unmindful of the waves that crashed over them or the rain that pelted down. She was deep into her healing trance, her magic knitting together blood vessels and repairing torn muscles, driving out infection and suturing flesh and scale.

She used some of her power to block the agony the mermaid felt and part of her  
empathic talent to soothe away the lingering terror the sea creature projected, a fear of her unknown attacker and the fear that she was dying.

"You're okay now. See, your wound's healed already. You won't die. Look."

Arista removed her hand from the mermaid's side. Where the huge gashes had been  
was now only pale green-tinged skin, flecked lightly with scales.

Dazed, the mermaid reached down a webbed hand to touch the place where,  
moments before, her life-blood had been seeping out of her. "Healed . . .you have healed me. I owe you a great debt, little wizard. By what name are you called?"

"Snape. Arista Snape."

"Ah. The blessings of the sea upon you, Potion Master's daughter. If ever you need  
us, touch the water and call my name. I am Amlioranee." Then she looked up at Hagrid and said, "Release me, gamekeeper, for I am well enough to swim back to my people. Farewell, wizards!"

She gave a great thrust with her tail fin and arced up out over the lake in one  
magnificent dive. Then she was gone, swimming deep beneath the storm-wracked waves.

"C'mon, Arista," Hagrid helped her out of the water with one huge hand. "You did  
real good, better than Madam Pomfrey even. Now you'd best be gettin' back t'the castle. Take a hot bath and drink somethin' warm then go to bed, before you catch somethin', hear? Your dad'll never forgive me if you took sick. Tol' me to watch out for you, he did."

Arista was shivering so badly she couldn't talk, she heard Hagrid with only half her  
brain, the other part was preoccupied with not freezing. The gills she'd grown had vanished as the Waterbreathing Draft wore off. _Cold . . .so cold . . .like a block of ice . .. _She felt Hagrid place her and Neville on the back of the transfigured chair and give  
the horse's rump a smack. "Take 'em home!"

The stallion broke into a run, and Arista wound her chilled hands in its mane and  
hung on. They were back in the Great Hall in moments.

As soon as Arista's feet touched the floor, the horse transformed back into a chair,  
the spell had reached its time limit of an hour, which was as long as Arista could work it at this stage of her training.

They were greeted by a concerned Dumbledore, Jenna, and surprisingly Colin and  
Severus, who had just returned from their search for Nightshade, forced to abandon their quest due to the miserable weather.

Snape stared at his daughter, who resembled a drowned rat, soaked to the skin and  
nearly blue with cold, shivering so hard she looked as if she were about to fly to pieces, but with a triumphant gleam in her dark eyes.

"Arista! What in blazes are you doing outside in this weather?" he cried, tearing off  
his cloak and wrapping it about her.

"S-she was in the l-lake, P-professor," stuttered Neville, accepting a large towel from  
Dumbledore.

"The _lake_?" Snape repeated, sounding as if he were going to have a coronary. "Why  
the bloody hell—"

"I w-was s-saving a mermaid," Arista said, trying to stop shivering so she could talk.  
She clutched Snape's cloak tighter to her, it was warm and dry, he must have put a  
waterproof spell on it. "I h-had to go, she would have d-died."

"So could **you**, of pneumonia!" her father snarled, his eyes blazing. "Damn Hagrid!  
Wait'll I see that big oaf, I'm going to give him a good piece of my mind, risking _my_  
daughter's life to rescue a _mermaid_, of all things!"

"It was _my_ choice, sir!" Arista flared, matching him glare for glare. "There's nothing  
wrong with what I did. I'm a Healer, it's my job to save people."

"I didn't give my permission for you to go running around saving everyone that  
comes begging at the door! You could have _died._ Look at you! You're practically blue with cold!" He gestured angrily at her, still shivering despite his cloak.

"Lecture her later, Severus Snape," Jenna said firmly, stepping in front of him. "If  
she stands here arguing with you any longer, she'll come down with pneumonia for sure. Men!" she shot Snape a frosty glare. "C'mon sweetie, let's get you into a hot bath and bed, I can hear your teeth chattering from here." She put her arm around Arista and led the girl away up the stairs to the prefect's bathroom, leaving Professor Snape fuming silently below them.

An hour later, Arista had soaked away most of the chill in her bones with a hot  
bubble bath and a drink of hot chocolate. She was now cozily tucked up in her familiar four poster bed with its green hanging, two comforters over her, wearing a flannel nightshirt and fuzzy woolen socks.

She was feeling extremely sleepy, a bit sore from her ride, and her chest felt heavy.  
She coughed sharply, muffling it with a hand. _Oh no. I **can't **get sick. Then Dad'll be mad at Hagrid. I'm so tired . . .all I want is to sleep for a month. If only I could stop coughing.  
_She covered her mouth with both hands, trying to stem the racking cough.

She heard a tap at her door. "Arista? May I come in?"

"Sure, Dad," she called. It was the first time she'd ever called him that, but it rolled  
right off her tongue, she was too tired and too sick to feel awkward about using it.

He blinked at her, startled, but he said nothing, coming swiftly over to stand before  
her bed. He was holding a goblet of something steaming in one hand, dressed in his familiar black wizard robes, his hair brushed back over his forehead. His eyes were bright with concern, no longer angry. "How are you feeling? I could hear you coughing all the way down the stairs."

"I'm fine," she protested. "I wasn't in the water that long."

"Nearly an hour, according to Hagrid," he said, moving over to feel her forehead. "Ah, I knew it. You've got a fever."

"Only a little one," she argued feebly.

"Humph!" he snorted. "You're lucky you didn't freeze to death, jumping into that  
water dressed in nothing but jeans and a summer T-shirt. What on earth were you _thinking_?"

"That someone need my help. I'm a Healer, Dad , that's what I do."

"Yes, I know, I heard you quite clearly the first time. But you can heal _and _exercise  
common sense at the same time, can't you?"

"This was an _emergency_, I didn't have time to put on a wetsuit or whatever. I _did_  
drink a Waterbreathing Draft though. She was bleeding all over, it was all I could do to get there before she bled out and then it would have been too late. Whatever took a bite out of her was _big_."

She coughed again, unable to hide it.

"All right," he sighed. "Jenna was right, the last thing you need now is me yelling  
at you." Then he scowled. "But she's got some nerve, telling me what to do with my own child, honestly!"

"Well, she _has_ been sort of a mother to me for two years," Arista pointed out.

"I see. I suppose I ought to be grateful for that, but you're my daughter, not hers,  
when all's said and done." He shook his head abruptly. "Never mind. I've made up a  
Decongestion Draft for you, it'll knock that cold and fever out of you and help you sleep."

He held out the goblet.

She took it, sniffing at the contents. "This smells like vinegar."

"Never mind that, just drink it," her father ordered. "Two swallows and it'll be over with."  
Arista wrinkled her nose, hesitating, then gave in at his warning look, and took a gulp  
of the potion. It tasted as bad as it smelled, but she forced herself to finish it. "That was **horrible**!"

"Sorry. But it'll help, trust me." He pointed his wand at her nightstand and a glass  
of orange-colored juice popped up on it. "Here, drink that pumpkin juice, it'll take the taste away."

Arista gulped down the juice eagerly. "What was_ in_ that, anyway?"

"I'll tell you tomorrow," he said, amused, clearly nothing dampened her curiosity for  
long. "You'll be asleep before I finish listing everything I put in it." He smiled down at her.

Already her eyes were closing and she felt herself sliding into sleep. Severus tucked  
the covers under her chin, then bent and kissed her on the forehead. "Sweet dreams, Arista."

He remained staring down at her, oddly reluctant to leave her. She looked so peaceful sleeping there, like a little child.

_But she's not a little child, Severus,_ his inner voice chided_. She's thirteen, almost a young lady. Too old to want a father to protect her. I missed all those other years, her  
first word, her first steps, her first day of school . . .So many firsts that I could have shared, but never did, because I never knew . . .Amelia, I wish you had told me . . . then I could have been a real father to her, instead of a stranger.  
_He sat down in a chair, watching her sleep, thinking wistfully of what might have  
been if Amelia had lived, how different all their lives would have been. Almost, he could hear Amelia saying, _But you're not a stranger, Sev, you're her father and you love her, whether you knew her from the day she was born or three weeks ago. That's what matters._

And she needs you, she'll **always **need you, whether or not she admits it.

And I need **her**, he acknowledged reluctantly_. She's all I have. Somehow, I have to  
try and keep her safe, because if anything ever happened to her . . .I think I would go mad. _He remained there the rest of the night, dozing in fits and starts in the uncomfortable  
chair, ever alert to the slightest stirring of the girl in the bed. But Arista remained soundly asleep, not waking once, her breathing deep and even. His potion had worked beautifully, stifling the dreaded congestion before it had begun.

The first hint of dawn brightened the sky when he rose from the chair, stretched  
stiffly, and walked over to feel her forehead. Her fever was gone.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Then he departed, slipping out of the room like a  
shadow fleeing the sunlight, to seek his own bed at last.

**A/N: Well, what did you think? Is he a good parent or what? And for those of you who're wondering where I got her name--Arista is Greek for "the best" or "highest", I think it's pretty and it fits her and her perfectionist dad, don't you agree?**

More coming up--stay tuned--the hunt for Nightshade is on!!


	13. All Fathers Are Overprotective

**All Fathers Are Overprotective of Their Daughters**

﻿Arista was allowed to sleep in the morning after her adventure with the mermaid, and  
Colin even excused her from her self-defense lesson, even though she insisted she was perfectly fine. "It won't kill you to take it easy for a day," the blond-haired wizard said. "Go back to bed like a normal teenager and sleep."

So Arista lounged in bed, reading up some more on the history of werewolves and trying to come up with a way to use the Wolfsbane potion as a catalyst for her healing power. _If the potion neutralizes the more vicious aspects of the disease, then maybe I can isolate the virus with my power and put it to sleep forever, kind of like what chemotherapy treatments do to certain kinds of cancer,_ she mused_. Of course in order to test this theory, I'm going to need a sample vial of a werewolf's blood. Not exactly something they've got lying around in a cabinet here, so where can I get some? Maybe Dad will know. _  
That thought was enough to make her jump up out of bed and scramble into her clothes, the pleasures of lazing about all day in bed forgotten. She ran a comb through her short wavy locks, shoved her feet into her sneakers, and was ready to go find her father in ten minutes.

She pulled open the door to find Professor Snape standing there, one hand lifted to knock. "Good afternoon. Since you're up and about, I assume you're feeling better."

"Hi. I feel fine," she assured him. "And I don't need any more of **that**." She made a face at the goblet in his other hand, which was giving off a distinctive sour aroma.

"I'll be the judge of that," he frowned, reaching out a hand to feel her forehead.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not sick. _Really_."

He ignored her. "Take a deep breath. Don't argue with me, young lady, just do it."

Indignantly, she did as she was told. "Dad, I'm a Healer, I'd _know_ if I was sick."

"Humph. Healers make the worst patients, don't think I don't know that. Again." He listened carefully to her breathing. It was perfectly normal. "Very well. You don't have to take this second draft." The smoking goblet vanished.

She breathed a sigh of vast relief. "Do you know where I can get some werewolf blood, Dad? Not a whole lot, just enough to fill a small vial."

"What's it for?"

She explained her new theory.

He looked thoughtful. "That sounds almost plausible. I'll see what I can do. Remus Lupin, who used to teach here last year, is a werewolf, and he might consent to donate a vial of blood once I tell him what you're doing."

"Awesome!" she grinned. "Only I can't promise anything."

"I'll tell him not to expect a miracle," Snape said dryly. "Meanwhile, it's lunchtime, I think you ought to eat something."

"Good idea. I am sort of hungry." She led the way up the stairs to the Great Hall. "Is Neville all right? He got soaked too helping me last night."

"Longbottom's got a touch of asthma, so he's still resting in bed and I'm dosing him with the Decongestion Draft I gave you last night. He should be well by tomorrow."

Arista felt sorry for Neville, forced to drink that horrible medicine. But at least it worked. "How do you make it, anyhow?"

"Ah, I was wondering when you were going to get around to asking that." He fished  
in a pocket, withdrawing a piece of parchment. "Here's the recipe. It takes about an hour to brew, but the longer you let it simmer, the more effective it is."

"And the more terrible it tastes, I'll bet," she muttered, taking the paper and scanning  
it.

"I don't hear you coughing, do you?" he asked pointedly.

"No, but why does medicine have to taste so awful?"

"To keep kids from wanting to get sick," he answered with a sly smirk. "If medicine  
tasted like butterbeer, we'd have an epidemic every other week."

"I **knew** it!" she cried. "It's a conspiracy between all you adults."

Professor Snape's mouth twitched into a rare half-smile. "But of course. We have  
to have _some_ advantages over all of you incorrigible teenagers."

"Real nice. When's it _our _turn?"

"When you grow up," he answered, then pushed open the door to the hall.

* * * * * *  
Snape was as good as his word, contacting Lupin a day after Arista requested the  
blood. He didn't expect the werewolf to be all that enthusiastic over the request, but Lupin surprised him by agreeing to let Severus draw a vial of his blood. They met in the Leaky Cauldron, where Lupin was renting a room.

"What's the harm in it? I've been poked and prodded and dosed by experts and  
nothing's ever done any good. Who knows? If she's got half your brains, Severus, she might figure out something that works better than the Wolfsbane Potion. Tell her I'm willing to answer questions for her research, if she wants to do an interview."

"That's very generous of you, Remus."

"Nah. I owe you one, Severus, for last year, and she's your daughter besides. She'll  
probably make a great Healer someday."

Snape nodded. "If she continues to apply herself to her studies and not keep half-  
drowning herself rescuing mermaids."

Lupin chuckled. "Kids these days. Look on the bright side, Severus. You only have  
four more years till she graduates."

"Oh joy," Snape grumbled.

"Ah, the wonders of parenthood." Lupin teased, his eyes sparkling.

Snape shot him a dirty look. "Very funny. Roll up your sleeve," the Potions Master  
ordered, removing a syringe from his potions kit.

"Be nice, Severus."

"Quit whining and make a fist, you big baby."

Lupin obeyed, though he barely felt the needle Snape inserted into his vein.

The Potions Master presented the vial of Lupin's blood to his daughter that  
afternoon. She thanked him and immediately took the vial into the lab to begin her tests.

She remained in there until evening, but her results were inconclusive, and she  
decided to stop working on it before she grew too frustrated.

At dinner that night, Jennika announced she was going to try and draw Nightshade  
out of hiding. She would spy on the Crow's Rest again with Colin, and hopefully the elusive witch would make an appearance.

"Somebody must have tipped her off last time, because we waited for hours in that  
miserable rain and she never showed." Colin told Jenna irritably.

"Eventually she'll slip," she consoled her husband. "Nobody's perfect and she's out  
of familiar territory besides."

"A fish out of water, yeah, I know. Only this particular fish refuses to lie down and die."

Neville, who had been pronounced well enough to come down for dinner, listened  
to the two Dark Hunters' discussion eagerly. If his parents hadn't been driven insane by Bellatrix, they might have discussed cases in just such a way. He truly hoped that one day Arista or another doctor might be able to restore their minds. He refused to give up hope that someday his parents would be returned to him.

On his other side, Arista was telling Professor Snape of her new test results. "I tried  
mixing a drop of werewolf blood with a drop of Wolfsbane. The potion neutralizes the virus somewhat, but it must have very strong mutagenic properties, because after a few hours it breaks free of the protein wall the Wolfsbane puts up and infects the healthy blood cells again. If only there were a way to strengthen the wall while the virus lies dormant."

"Perhaps a protein-based antibody?" Snape suggested.

"Yes, that might work . . ."

Neville tried to follow their conversation, but they used so many unfamiliar terms  
and cryptic references that he was soon lost. They might have been speaking Swahili for all the sense he could make of it. "I don't understand a word they're saying," he murmured, half to himself, feeling even more foolish than usual.

"Don't feel too bad, kid," Colin said from his other side, noticing Neville's utterly  
bewildered look. "Those two speak the same language. Incomprehensible to the rest of us ordinary mortals. Genius-speak, I like to call it. It's like a secret language." He eyed Arista fondly. "No doubt about it, she's _his_ daughter all right."

Neville brightened. "I thought maybe it was me, that I was too dumb to figure out  
what a "protein-based antibody" was."

Colin patted his shoulder. "You're not dumb, son. I graduated at the top of my class  
at the Academy with a degree in criminology and** I** can barely follow their conversation. Arista's so smart she scares me sometimes. But I guess that's to be expected, with her parents. Someday she'll be famous, and I can say that I taught her kung fu and how to block curses."

"She'd probably be great friends with Hermione, she's in Gryffindor and she knows  
_everything_." Neville said.

"They'd get along like a house afire." Jenna predicted. Then she changed the subject  
to a discussion about growing English roses and box hedges and Neville, with his interest in herbology, happily joined in.

* * * * * *  
The next morning, both Dark Hunters departed Hogwarts to stakeout the pub where  
Nightshade was reputed to visit some evenings. Arista was not concerned when they didn't return for dinner that evening or the next day. She'd been through remote assignments before and she knew that a Dark Hunter spent a good deal of time waiting for a suspect to show up and about five to ten minutes actually capturing the dark wizard.

She was immersed in pursuing her antibody theory in any case, and when she wasn't inside the potions' classroom, she was with Hagrid, learning about obscure breeds of dogs and other animals that dwelled in the Forbidden Forest, or with Madam Pomfrey, demonstrating her healing talent.

The healer-witch was most impressed with Arista's gift, saying she'd never seen it  
manifest so strongly in one so young before. "I can mend bruises and cuts without blinking, but I couldn't fix broken bones until I was a fifth-year at least, much less repair damage like that mermaid suffered by myself. You could probably regrow a limb if you had to, by Asclepius!"

Arista didn't know what to say to that, she was embarrassed by the older woman's  
praise. Healing came as naturally to her as breathing, she had always been able to do it. She saw nothing remarkable about it, even though her teachers were always going on about how amazing it was.

When the Flynns had first discovered her, she'd been astonished they couldn't heal  
like she could. "I thought all magicians could do it."

"Mix up a healing potion, yeah, we can do that, but laying hands on someone or  
something and having them get up ten minutes later healed, no. That's a rare ability even among us," Colin had informed her.

It was also an ability half the Dark Wizards in the country would give their right arm  
for, which was why her teachers were so adamant about protecting her.

Arista understood their concerns, but lately she was beginning to get a bit annoyed  
at their constant vigilance, especially now her father had joined in and seemed hellbent on keeping her safe too.

Sometimes she just wanted to scream at them, _I'm not a little baby, I can protect  
myself, and I don't need you all hovering over me. If Nightshade wants me, she can come and get me, and I'll kill her just the way she killed my mom. I want the hag dead as much as any of you. _She even had an idea that might help them capture the wily witch. It was an insane  
idea, and one she knew none of the adults would ever agree with unless they were flat out desperate, but it could work.

Nightshade's preferred MO was holding children hostage, as Arista knew perfectly  
well. That was why the witch was lurking in the vicinity of Hogwarts, waiting for an  
opportunity to snatch away some unsuspecting student. Except Arista was neither  
unsuspecting nor unaware and she was willing to serve as bait for a trap, irresistible bait, given Nightshade's reputation.

But the chances of getting the older magicians to agree to it were so slim as to be  
nonexistent. Unless something happened to make them desperate enough to try it, she knew better than to bring it up.

Still, the idea spun round and round in her brain, and always came back to the same  
thought. _What if it was the only way? Like my mom tracking Slade with her empathy? What if the only way to draw Nightshade out was to offer myself as bait? What would I give to catch my mother's murderer?_

Answer: Almost anything.   
Sighing, she stuffed that notion in the back of her mind. It was unlikely she'd ever  
be called on to act on it, not with two experienced Hunters and Severus Snape all working together to get the dark sorceress.

Far better to concentrate on her virus theory, at least she was making some progress  
there. It was harder than she had initially thought, isolating the curse and then making it go dormant permanently. But then she'd known it wouldn't be easy, if it was, they'd already have found a cure and there would be no more werewolves.

Luckily, her other specialty was impossible acts of magic.

* * * * * *  
Late that night, Arista was awakened from an uneasy sleep by the sound of voices  
down in the Slytherin common room. Something about the tone of their words brought her fully awake, a nameless foreboding sweeping through her. Without pausing to think, she got out of bed and crept soundlessly down the hall, wincing at the chill stone on her bare feet.

". . . .at St. Mungo's They wouldn't tell me how long . . .damn Healers never give  
you a straight answer." That was Colin's voice, raspy with anger and something she'd never heard in it before: fear.

She inched forward, peering around the curve of the archway. There was Colin,  
pacing furiously up and down the room like a restless tiger, his blond hair slick with rain, his clothes torn and with what looked like scorch marks upon them. His eyes were dark with anger and his jaw tight with tension. His whole being radiated anxiety, anger, and grief.

_Something bad's happened. I've never seen him like this before. _She glanced around the room, trying to see who he was talking to.

There was her father, seated in the recliner, a book open on his lap. He'd apparently  
been reading before Colin interrupted him. There was a glass of juice next to him on the table and a half-eaten apple, he often liked to nibble on fruit while he read. He was looking up at the other wizard, and even from around the corner, she could see he looked grave.

"I'm sure they will do the best they can, Colin. With a spell like that, it can take time  
to reverse the effects."

"And if they can't? This isn't some run-of-the-mill standard offensive spell we're  
talking about. I don't even know what to call it, and offensive spells are my specialty." He began to pace again. "If they can't reverse it, she'll be stuck like that forever, trapped in a half-life, alive and not alive." His voice trembled, to her horror Arista realized he was on the verge of tears. She had **never **seen him cry, he was always tough as nails. "I don't know if I could take that . . .seeing her like that day after day . . ."

He muttered several swear words under his breath and glared at the wall.

"I know. I'd be the same if it were Amelia," came Severus' voice, low and filled  
with compassion. "If you like, perhaps I can speak with the doctors tomorrow, obtain a more thorough diagnosis."

"Yeah, they'd be more willing to talk to you, a local, instead of her crazy American  
husband." Colin laughed bitterly. "I went a little kamikaze on them when I found out they couldn't help her right away. One of the Healers said something like with that level of dark magic, it's impossible to say whether the subject will ever regain normal brain function again, so we might as well just leave it for now and go home. I grabbed him by the coat and slammed him up against a wall. That's my _wife_, you dumbass, not a blasted lab rat, I screamed in his face. Now quit screwing around and just fix her, got me?" The Dark Hunter shook his head in disgust. "Real professional, huh? I'm a cop, I don't go around assaulting civilians. I'll be lucky if they don't slap me with a lawsuit."

"I doubt that. They'll take into consideration that you were distraught and provoked." Snape said, quirking an eyebrow. "If that idiot had said something like that about _my_ injured wife to me, he would have been _through _the wall, not just slammed into it."

Colin had stopped pacing now and dropped down to sit on the black leather couch.  
"You'd think I'd be used to this, with my line of work, there's always the risk that you or  
someone close to you is going to get hurt. But when it happens . . .all the damn preparation in the world amounts to spit. Just the sight of her. . .lying so still . . .It should have been me, damn and blast it! I saw that witch casting—I _saw_ her—but I was a fraction of a second too slow . . ."

"It's easy to blame yourself, looking back on it. What happened tonight?"

"We had Fireflash drop us off at the pub, then we disguised ourselves as part of the  
shrubbery with a chameleon spell and we waited. Five o'clock came and went, no  
Nightshade. Then we see her—tall, long dark hair with that white streak on the left side, dressed in her typical gray ensemble. We decided to let her go inside, have a few drinks, then arrest her when she came out. Drunk, she'd be an easy target, right? Pity it didn't work out that way."

"What went wrong?"

"Everything. When she finally came out, she didn't act drunk at all, she must have  
been sipping mint tea all night. She also came out with a few friends—a troll, a night haunt, and a seedy looking gnome. We hadn't been expecting that, Nightshade's not the type to have companions, but it wasn't anything we couldn't handle." Colin related softly.

"We divided them up. Jenna could take the gnome and the night haunt and that left  
the troll and Nightshade for me. Not bad odds, all things considered. We waited until they were about twelve feet beyond the pub, then we Apparated in front of 'em and flashed our badges. That was when everything went to hell in a handcart."

Colin grimaced at the memory. "I iced the troll, no problem, and Jenna hit the night  
haunt with a freezing jinx so it couldn't phase and escape. While she was doing that though, the gnome pulled out a fireball launcher—which is highly illegal—and pointed it at her. It was nearly point blank range, no way he could miss. I had to take him out first, and I did, with a Stunning Hex. But that was what Nightshade was waiting for.  
"I looked up, saw her grin and gesture at Jenna, I called at her to get down, but it was  
too late. Whatever hybrid Stasis-Memory Charm Nightshade hit her with nearly killed her. I threw an Inferio at Nightshade, but she deflected it, then she Apparated and all I could do was pick up Jenna and bring her to the hospital." He gazed up at Snape, a look of helpless anger on his face. Then he continued. "They told me that without the Anti-stasis Potion she'd drank before we got there, that spell Nightshade cast would have finished her. Because Nightshade's spell was also primed to stop a person's heart in addition to freezing time where they stood. So I owe you big time, Severus."

"I only wish it had been enough to counter the entire spell." Snape said regretfully.  
"You should have called me when Nightshade came out of there, maybe with the three of us . . ."

"I know, I was stupid. And Jenna paid for my oversight. But at least your potion  
kept Jenna alive, and that's all that matters. No one expects you to repel a spell that's been dark-altered, Severus. Nightshade's famous for tinkering with existing spells and turning them deadly. She's pure poison, like her name."

"Did the doctors give you an estimate on how long it would take to cancel the spell?"  
Colin sighed. "No. That's one of the reasons I lost it with them, because they  
couldn't even give me an answer. Maybe they don't even know an answer, but if that's the case, I wish they'd come right out and say it, instead of treating me like a little kid who's too stupid to have a grown-up conversation." His expression darkened. "I swear, Severus, I'm going to get that twisted witch if it's the last thing I do. _Nobody_ hurts my wife like that and walks away laughing. Nobody."

He stared moodily into the flickering flames of the fire. For a moment, neither man  
spoke. Then Colin said, "I could really use a drink. I mean a real drink, not honey wine. Got anything around here?"

Snape pointed his wand at the table and a black bottle and a shot glass appeared on  
it. "Firewhisky. Will that do? Albus keeps it on hand for some of his guests who prefer it to wine or fruit juice."

"That'll do just fine, my friend," Colin said, rising and pouring himself a glass of the  
potent liquid. "Join me?" he invited.

"No, thanks. I don't touch the stuff." Snape refused, his lip curling in distaste. The  
mere smell of the firewhisky conjured up dismal memories of his father, reeking of Scotch or beer, stumbling home at two in the morning, bellowing _"Eileen! Open the bloody door before I break it down!" _Colin didn't press, simply tossed back the first glass.

Arista, observing unseen from the hall, was shocked. _Colin's drinking **firewhisky**?  
But he **never** drinks that stuff. He calls firewhisky the demon in the bottle, because it's the cause of so many teenagers crashing their brooms and killing themselves. And now here he is, gulping it down like it was water. _She watched in disbelief as her teacher poured himself a second shot. Then a third.  
After the fourth glass, Snape said quietly, "I think you've had enough, Flynn." He  
vanished the bottle and the glass.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Colin demanded angrily, glaring daggers at the  
other man. "I was just starting to feel better."

"You'll thank me for it tomorrow," Severus remarked calmly. "One more and you'd  
have been on the floor and I'm not about to drag you up a whole flight of stairs."

"You could have just left me on the couch," the Dark Hunter grumbled.

"Not a chance. This is a _school_, Flynn, remember? How would it look if my  
daughter or another student woke up for breakfast and found you passed out in a drunken stupor?"

"You telling me none of your colleagues drink?" Colin scowled blackly.

"Not to excess, or if they do, they do it in private," Severus conceded. He rose to his  
feet. "Come, my friend, let's get you in bed. You'll feel better after a good night's rest."

"I'm not tired," the Dark Hunter sulked, sounding like a cranky five-year-old.

"Oh yes you are," Snape said firmly. "You simply don't realize it yet." He took the  
other wizard firmly by the elbow and steered him towards the stairs. "No arguments, Colin. Let's go."

Arista whirled and slipped back into her room just as her father began leading the  
inebriated Colin up the stairs. She felt sick to her stomach and she threw herself across her bed and sobbed silently into her pillow. She hated Nightshade more than ever now, for she was systematically destroying all that was good in Arista's life. Somehow, some way, they had to stop her.

* * * * * *

Morning dawned gray and cloudy, the perfect compliment to Arista's mood. Colin  
and Severus had already left the castle for St. Mungo's, which left Arista free for the  
morning to choose her own studies. She tried to rework her Wolfsbane Theory, but kept hitting a snag because she couldn't figure out a way to extend the length of time the potion kept the virus dormant.

Frustrated at her lack progress and angry as well at Nightshade's injuring of Jenna,  
the girl indulged in a rare fit of temper, storming about the lab, muttering several nasty  
words under her breath, and giving her cauldron a satisfying kick.

Of course, then she hurt her foot, making her even more irritated at her own  
stupidity. "Next time I'll just blow a hole in the wall," she hissed, cradling her bruised foot and wishing Nightshade six feet under.

Her temper still sparking, she cleaned up her apparatus, knowing any experiment she tried now would fail because she was too angry to concentrate. She decided to go for a walk, hoping that would cool her temper. She kept recalling the conversation she'd  
overheard last night, and imagining poor Jenna—bright lively Jenna who could always make you laugh and who could solve the toughest codes in the cryptographer manual in five minutes—lying like a wax doll in a hospital bed, barely alive. She recalled Colin's helpless frustration, because he could do nothing for his wife but wait and pray she recovered.

_Jenna has to get well. She just HAS to_, Arista chanted over and over, like a mantra.  
_Otherwise Nightshade will have taken away my second mother as well as my first, the bloody hag! _Hatred bubbled in her, curdling in her gut like an Acid Pop on the verge of exploding. _If only there was a way we could get her to come to us, so we could fight her on our own terms._ Once again the idea of using herself as bait rose to the surface of her mind.

Crazy as that idea was, it now seemed the only thing left to try.

She drew in a deep breath. Then she walked back and sat on the grass, her knees  
drawn up to her chin, staring over the Black Lake. She figured she had about three hours before her father returned from the hospital. Three hours to come up with a reason to convince her overprotective parent that he should use her as bait to catch a killer.

* * * * * *  
Professor Snape returned from St. Mungo's that afternoon in the mood to throttle  
someone, preferably one of the stiff-necked Healers he'd had to deal with for half the  
morning. At first, they'd refused to let him even see Jenna, saying she was still "under  
surveillance" whatever_ that_ meant. He'd explained to them that he was the Potions Master of Hogwarts, the lady was a friend, and he had considerable experience in removing multiple curse and hexes of this sort.

They hemmed and hawed over whether to accept his help until he longed to shake  
them. "Would it help if you got a committee together to discuss it? You could all vote," he said acidly, after they'd left him cooling his heels for two hours in that drab waiting room.

"It's highly irregular, Professor," one of the Healers protested, an older balding man  
in his fifties. "Our policy of treatment—"

"Doesn't seem to have gotten you anywhere," he cut in smoothly. "All I want is to  
examine Mrs. Flynn, to see if there is a way I can help her. If not, then I will leave her in  
your hands. You can even watch, if you wish."

"If something goes wrong . . ." the Healer wrung his hands. "Her husband . . .he's  
a maniac . . .he threw Dr. Stubbs into a _wall_ . . ."

"No, Doctor, he's not crazy," Snape said icily. "He's simply frustrated and worried  
about his wife and in any case he won't hold you responsible for any treatment I prescribe. He's a friend of mine."

"With a friend like that, who needs enemies?" the Healer muttered. He dithered for  
about five more minutes until Snape gave him the same withering look he reserved for students who didn't do their homework and who tried to pretend they had. Then the doctor agreed to let him see Jenna.

He tried several counter-curses first, standard ones. They had no effect. _That  
woman's good,_ he admitted grudgingly. He cast a few other spells, attempting to penetrate the stasis field, but only one of them even made a dent in it.

He _did _manage to touch Jenna's mind, reassuring himself that she was still inside,  
that the Memory Charm had not damaged her thought processes. She was sleeping and dreaming, he made sure her dreams were pleasant ones.

"I need to study some more on this," he informed the intern on duty. "I'll be back  
tomorrow."

"Won't do any good, y'know," the lanky youth drawled, arrogantly. "Waste of time,  
if you ask me. That one's been looked over by the best we've got and none of them can break the curse on her. She'll end up a vegetable, most likely."

Snape stared at him, furious. "Your manners need improving, and if you don't watch  
your mouth, boy,_ I'll_ shove you _through_ a wall. And_ this_ is the caliber of Healer they're  
turning out these days? What a disgrace!" The intern gulped and backed away. "I'll be back tomorrow. Good day."

"Crazy . .they're all crazy up there at that school . . ." he heard the intern muttering behind his back.

Snape allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction before informing Colin that  
Jenna was not brain-dead, only sleeping. The Dark Hunter elected to stay beside his wife and Severus returned to the school.

As a result of that endless aggravating day, he was in a nasty mood. He decided to  
take dinner in his rooms, he wasn't fit company for anyone right then. A house elf brought him up a tray and then departed.

He remained in his rooms, studying all his texts on breaking curses and dispelling  
charms. There must be a way to remove the spell Nightshade had cast, he refused to believe there was no counter-charm. And if he couldn't discover it on his own, he would rip it from the witch's mind when they finally caught her.

He paged through several more obscure grimoires until he felt a headache developing behind his eyes and decided to call it a night.

It was then that there came a knock at his door. "Who is it?" he growled.

"Arista. I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

"No, come in."

She entered and he shut the book he'd been perusing and looked up. "If this has  
something to do with your project, ask me tomorrow, I'm not in the mood to discuss it  
tonight."

"It's not about my project. I came to find out about Jenna," she blurted.

"Jenna? How do you know about that?" he asked sharply, narrowing his eyes. "Is  
Colin back then from St. Mungo's?"

Arista gulped, wondering if she should act as if Colin was back and that was how she  
came to know of Jenna's injuries. But she had an empath's distaste for lies and she knew he could tell if she were lying, thirteen years as a teacher had honed his instincts.

"No, sir. I-I overheard you and Colin talking last night," she admitted, looking him  
straight in the eyes.

"I see. Eavesdropping is a very bad habit, you never hear anything good, young  
lady," he said frostily. She dropped her eyes to his desk. "Since you already know the  
worst, I will tell you that unfortunately, Jenna is no better today than she was last night."

"Can the Healers cure her?"

"I don't know," he answered slowly. _Neither do they_. "I think I may have found a way to neutralize one of the spells, but I won't know until I cast it."

"Are you going to continue looking for Nightshade?"

"Certainly. What happened to Jenna will not stop us from searching for Nightshade  
in the slightest. If anything, Colin is more determined than ever to find her and give her the comeuppance she so richly deserves."

Arista gripped the edge of the desk hard, then said quickly, "What if I told you that  
I knew of a way you could lure Nightshade to you? That you could set a trap for her, by  
giving her what she wants most?"

Her father was looking at her quizzically. "And what would that be?"

"Me. I mean, we all know she likes to capture children and hold them hostage, right?  
So what if we pretended to give her a child, and let her think she could just take me  
unnoticed, but when she did, you could spring upon her, catch her off guard and kill her or whatever."

"You _cannot_ be serious!" he said in a terribly soft voice.

"But it could work," she persisted. "It wouldn't be really dangerous, you'd be there  
the whole time and—"

"No! Are you insane, to even suggest such a thing?" he yelled, coming to his feet and  
looming over her. "That I use my own daughter as _bait,_ that I would take such a risk, even to catch Nightshade . . .Out of the question!"

"But it's a good idea, she'd never suspect it," Arista insisted. "It could be the only way to get her, now that she knows we're on to her, Dad."

"No. End of discussion."

"If you'd just _listen _to me for a minute—"

"I've heard nothing resembling rational thought come out of your mouth tonight,"  
he snapped.

"Only because you won't let me _talk_," she yelled back. "Don't you want to find  
Nightshade, and make her pay for what she's done? She killed Mom!"

"I _know_ that! That's exactly why I don't want you involved in this, young lady! She's  
already taken too much from me, I'll be damned if she's going to take you too!"

"That doesn't matter now," Arista cried recklessly. "I'm willing to take that risk, I want her _dead,_ don't you understand?"

Severus drew in a breath, fighting to control his temper. "That's not for you to decide. I won't risk you with her, not now or ever, and that's the end of it."

"Stop treating me like a child! I can protect myself!"

"How?" he sneered. "By behaving like an idiot and throwing yourself in front of a  
predator like a bloody sacrificial goat? Now_ there's_ a brilliant idea. And here I thought you were smart!"

"Sometimes you have to sacrifice everything in order to win," she threw back at him.

"Not this time, I don't. I'll win another way. Now I think you should go to bed, I've said all I'm going to say tonight."

"You can't just order me to bed like I was five years old," she cried angrily, her chin  
thrust out in stubborn defiance.

"Can't I?" he took a step forward, his eyes blazing. "You forget, young lady, I'm your father, and if you behave like a five year old, I'll treat you like one."

"Just because you don't agree with me doesn't give you the right—"

"I have _every_ right," he interrupted. "Now go to bed, _child,_ before I do something  
we'll both regret." He held onto his temper by the slimmest of margins.

"Fine!" she turned to leave.

"Lose that attitude, young lady!" he called after her. "Right blasted _now_."

The door slammed shut behind her. Severus took another breath and stared down  
at his hands, which were clenched into fists. "You don't know how lucky you are, you  
incorrigible brat. If I were a man like my father . . .you'd be black and blue by now. Of all the stupid ideas! God save me from reckless impulsive teenagers. And they say children are the joy of your life. Ha! Use her as bait . . .She's going to drive me to drink, I swear!" he muttered balefully.

He went to bed cursing Nightshade, for this whole bloody mess was her fault, after  
all._ Better find her quick, Snape, his inner voice warned. Before your crazy daughter does and gets herself killed. As if I didn't have enough problems, damn it! _

Arista pointedly ignored her father all through breakfast, which suited them both,  
since neither one wanted to start quarreling in front of everyone in the hall. Arista ate  
quickly and then rose to follow Colin out to the courtyard for the daily self-defense lesson.

She noticed the Dark Hunter had large circles under his eyes, apparently he'd slept as badly as she had last night, if for different reasons.

They started with the usual stretches and warm-up exercises, but Arista found her  
concentration slipping, and when she missed an easy block, Colin called a halt. "Okay, what's bothering you?"

"Nothing."

"Come on, give. Last time you were this steamed, it was because you caught the  
Cullin twins trying to drown kittens in the river. Now, what's got you so upset?" he sat  
down on one of the benches to the right of the door, jerking his head for her to sit down.

She did so, scowling angrily. "It's _him!_ He's impossible to talk to."

"By _him_ I'm assuming you mean your father?" Colin raised an eyebrow.

Arista nodded shortly. "Last night I went to him with an idea I had about helping you  
two catch Nightshade . . ." she explained her plan, telling the older wizard everything,  
especially her father's reaction to it.

"Let me get this straight. You want to use yourself as bait and Severus said no, so  
you're mad at him?"

"Well, yes. But he's being so _unreasonable_, Colin," she began.

"So are you."

_"What?"_

"Just listen to me for a minute. You think he's being unreasonable because he wants  
to protect you, correct?" Arista nodded. "Arista, that's not being unreasonable, that's being a father. All fathers are overprotective of their daughters, no matter how old they get. Now, I know you think you've got this wonderful plan to get Nightshade, but try looking at it from his point of view. Nightshade's his worst enemy, the one who killed his beloved, and now she not only threatens his country, but his only daughter as well. He wants her dead badly, any man would after what she's done. He'd give his life in an instant if it would mean her death. But never yours. You're all he's got, kid, and he's not about to risk losing you. He loves you to pieces, and he's scared to death Nightshade's going to kill you too, like she did Amelia. Then you come along and say you're going to offer yourself up to the Big Bad Wolf, and it's like his worst nightmare just hit him in the face. No way would he ever agree to it. And I can't blame him either. If _my _daughter tried to do what you suggested, I'd tell her no in two seconds. Not even a question."

"But Colin, Nightshade _has _to be stopped."

"Yes, you're right about that. And we'll stop her, trust me on that. But we'll do it without sacrificing our children. That's the very _last _thing we want."

"But what if it's the only way?" she asked in a small voice.

"It isn't. I've been a Hunter a long time now, kid, and I'll tell you right now that I've  
never had a situation where I had to resort to a hostage to get my suspect. It's too dangerous, too many things can go wrong. It's my job to protect innocents, not put them in harm's way. Even if they volunteer. _Especially _if they volunteer," he added with a crooked grin. "But it was a good idea, even if we'd never use it."

"Thanks, Colin._ He_ said I was stupid to even think of it," she added petulantly.

"Hey, give him a break, Arista. It's not easy for him either, trying to be a father to  
a half-grown kid. It's not easy for anybody to be a parent, even if you come at it the usual way, much less had it sprung on you the way he did. Your mother told me once that he didn't have a real good childhood, so it's only natural he's gonna try his hardest not to let you get hurt the way he was. He can't help himself. Like I said before, all fathers are overprotective of their daughters. I'd be the same."

"Is that why you never had kids?"

"No. We just, uh, haven't had time. You know how crazy our schedule is. And now  
with Jenna hurt . . ."

"She'll get well, Colin. She has to."

"So I keep telling myself. If Severus' potion works, that'll be half the battle right there. The man's a genius with potions, I've never met anyone better."

"Even if he is stubborn as a mountain goat with a tongue like a wasp."

"Sounds like you're describing yourself," Colin grinned.

"I am _not!"_

The Dark Hunter laughed. "I beg to differ, Miss Snape. But you two are more alike  
than either of you will ever admit." He rose to his feet. "Now that we've discussed what's bothering you, it's time to get back to our real lessons. Show me that left cross block again, and this time_ focus_, if you don't mind, Arista-san."

"Yes, sensei." She said, moving into the first stance, her hands held up before her.  
Maybe Colin was right, but that didn't mean she had to like it. Then she had no more time to think of her father, she had to concentrate on her teacher, before he broke through her guard and knocked her on her behind in the dirt.


	14. Premonitions

**Premonitions**

Severus did not speak to his daughter at all the rest of that day. He went directly  
to St. Mungo's from Hogwarts after breakfast. The intern on duty, warned of his  
unpredictable temper, let him into Jennika's room without a fuss. She was the same as when he'd left her yesterday, trapped in the stasis spell. He drew his wand, pointed it at her and barked the incantation he'd found in the ancient tome last night before his quarrel with Arista. "_Tempus Fugit_!"

He felt the stasis spell shudder as it tried to fight off the charm he'd cast, which did not attempt to break through the shield around Jenna or penetrate it, but simply ordered time to resume its natural course. But the stasis was not strong enough to fight the  
inexorable flow of time and gradually it began to crumble as he poured more of his will into his charm.

Eventually, he felt the stasis shield crumble to dust, swept away by the passage of time which wears down all things, even magic. He peered at Jenna, who was still asleep, lost in a world of dreams. But she breathed steadily, her chest rising and falling evenly. He touched her hand, it was cold—cold as ice. Probably a result of the stasis spell. He pondered whether to give her the Restoring Elixir he'd brewed, or wait until the doctors examined her.

He decided to allow the Healers to examine her first, in case there was something else wrong with her physically that he'd missed. He allowed himself a brief smile of triumph. This was one victim that Nightshade's magic would _not _claim. At least not  
today.

By the time the doctors had finished examining their patient, and had determined there was nothing physically wrong with her save for abnormally cold skin and the fact that she was not awake yet, it was close to noon. Severus was starving, he decided to grab a quick bite in the hospital cafeteria before going back to Jenna's room and giving her the Restorative Elixir. The doctors had agreed that it wouldn't harm her and could only help.

So Snape ate a hamburger before he went back upstairs, where he slowly fed the comatose Jenna miniscule amounts of Restorative Elixir, one half spoonful at a time, making certain she swallowed after every spoonful.

Gradually, the color returned to Jenna's waxen limbs, and by the time the elixir was finished, her skin was a normal ruddy color again and starting to warm up. "There! That should make you feel better," he said to the sleeping magician. "Now, if only you'd wake up." He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Maybe that's one hurdle your husband can help with. I'll be back in a moment or two."

Five minutes later he returned with an ecstatic Colin, who immediately set about calling Jenna's name and holding her hand to see if she would respond to him. But the dark-haired magician remained soundly asleep, not even waking when her husband kissed her gently or shook her.

"What do we do now?" the Dark Hunter queried. "She won't wake up. She's not in a coma or anything is she?"

"No, not really. But that _was_ a rather strong Memory Charm she was hit with. It knocked her out and now she's dreaming. I think it best if we don't try to wake her again. She should wake up on her own now that the stasis is no longer affecting her."

"When?"

"I don't know. We'll just have to wait and see."

The Dark Hunter sighed impatiently. "That's all I seem to be doing any more. Not that I'm complaining or anything, Severus. If it weren't for you, she'd still be trapped inside that shield. I don't know how we can ever repay you . . ."

"That's easy," Snape said with a faint smile. "Help me find Nightshade and all debts between us are settled, Flynn."

"You got it, buddy." Colin grinned. "Now if I were a dark witch that had two wizards that wanted to kick my ass to hell on my trail, where would I hide?"

"Somewhere I could get to easily," Snape offered. "Why don't we go and scout around the Crow's Rest again? Perhaps there's a secret tunnel or something nearby that we missed."

"Uh-huh. Or we could try questioning the patrons." Colin said. "Severus, how good are you at intimidation?"

Snape grinned evilly. "You're looking at the teacher who's intimidated hundreds of reluctant students into doing homework and studying for exams they hated, Flynn."

A smile spread across Colin's face. "You're an expert then. Let's go. I want some good leads and I want 'em now."

They Apparated from the room, wearing identical smirks a devil would have envied.

* * * * * *  
Two hours and about fifteen sniveling bar patrons later, Colin and Severus had managed to discover that Nightshade rented a tiny flat not far from the pub, or had as far as the bartender knew. At first he'd refused to answer any of their questions, even when Colin told him he was obstructing a Hunter's investigation. But he  
cracked quick enough when Snape went to work on him, spilling his guts in fifteen minutes.

"Got to hand it to you, Snape. You are one hell of a nasty character when you want to be. You nearly had _me_ shaking there, and I'm on your side," the Dark Hunter praised.

"He was easy compared to a room full of conceited fifteen- year-olds, Flynn." Severus laughed. "The only way to get them to pay attention is to be as demanding and hard as possible. I learned that after my first year of teaching."

Colin whistled. "Maybe I ought to tell Chief Hamilton to start getting recruits from the schools next time. All those retired teachers could have a bona fide future questioning reluctant witnesses and suspects."

"Teachers turned cops, now there's a thought to send any criminal crying to his mother," Snape said, giving Colin one of his rare smiles.

"If you ever get sick of teaching, come and see me, Severus. You'd do wonders in law enforcement."

"I'll think about it," Snape said evasively. "Shall we follow up on our lead?"

"By all means." Colin gestured for Severus to precede him out the door of the pub.

But when they reached the flat, they found it was empty, save for a few empty cardboard boxes and an old sofa with the springs coming out. Colin swore ferociously. "Just when we think we're getting close . . .!"

"Perhaps a tracking spell?"

"I need something of hers to make it work."

Severus walked over to the torn couch and examined it. Most of the stuffing was coming out of it and it looked as though rats had gnawed on a leg. He ran his hand over the back of the couch. When he lifted his hand there was a long white hair stuck to it. "Will this do?"

Colin came over to examine the hair. "If it's hers, yes. Let me get my ID kit." He reached in a pocket of his coat and drew forth a tiny black case. When he opened it there was a small depression to fit a hair. He quickly tucked the white hair in the  
case and shut it. Then he put a finger on it and said, "ID match for Livia Nightshade."

The case blurred for a moment. Then it blinked back into view. Colin opened it and a woman's voice emerged. "Positive ID, hair of Livia Nightshade."

Colin grinned darkly. "You slipped up this time, witch. With this I can track you to hell and back." He looked over at Snape. "You need anything from your potions cabinet, or are you ready to go?"

"I have what I need," Severus said eagerly. "Let's finish this."

Meanwhile, Arista had been invited to a late morning tea with Sybill Trelawney, the Divination teacher. Since she was usually ravenous after one of Colin's sessions, she accepted Trelawney's invitation gratefully, even though the Divination teacher made her slightly uneasy.

She could not explain why she felt that way, for most people viewed the eccentric woman as harmless, if a bit touched in the head. Her father had once commented that Trelawney was the worst teacher at Hogwarts for teaching students anything practical or worthwhile, but she was one of Dumbledore's charity cases, and  
that was why she had remained so long at the school. _Touched in the head she may be, but there's something else about her that gives me the shivers. Maybe it's the way she looks at you, like she can see right through you. No, that's not it, Dad looks at me like that sometimes, and he doesn't scare me half as bad as Trelawney. No, it's more like she looks at you like you aren't there, or don't exist, or something. _

Shrugging, she continued up the stairs to Trelawney's quarters. As she had expected, the Divination teacher's room reflected the Seer's dreamy nature. The floor was covered in thick red carpets and there were gauzy wall hangings of constellations and hazy landscapes with unicorns cavorting through meadows and one large picture of a crystal ball with two hands reaching out for it. A sofa in a soft plum color that clashed  
horribly with the carpets had plump pillows in all the colors of the rainbow scattered on it.

Arista blinked as she walked into the room. _Maybe I should have worn sunglasses, I feel like I've just walked into a quilter's worst nightmare. _  
There was a curtain of beads to the right, and the smell of some kind of incense, probably jasmine, hung in the air. In the center of the sitting room was a small round table covered with a fading lace tablecloth and Arista wouldn't have been surprised to  
discover it had a large crystal ball atop it.

It was now set with a pretty rosebud china tea cozy and two matching cups, a set of silver spoons, a sugar bowl and several trays of tiny iced cakes and tea sandwiches. There were two chairs drawn up to the table, red poofy things that reminded Arista of  
Little Miss Muffet's tuffet. Overhead hung a chandelier with strands of crystals dangling from it.

"Come in, Arista," Trelawney's voice was a breathy whisper. She emerged from behind the beaded curtain like a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis, aswirl in magenta and turquoise skirts and a white peasant blouse. A screaming green scarf caught up her golden-brown hair. She smiled welcomingly at the girl.

"Do sit down. I am so glad you could join me. I feel this is going to be an auspicious day for you. All the signs point to it."

_They do? What kind of tea leaves have **you** been reading, lady? So far this morning has been one of the worst I've had since I've been here_. She still wasn't speaking to her father, Colin had lectured her and then quite neatly stomped her into the dirt at their practice, she was still worried about Jenna, and wishing she could do something about Nightshade. _Maybe her kind of auspicious day isn't the same as mine. _  
She sat down on the poofy cushion, feeling an absurd desire to bounce up and down on it giggling like a naughty preschooler. But she restrained herself, taking her napkin and setting it in her lap like a properly well-bred girl.

Trelawney sat opposite her, beaming at her like a happy butterfly. Her multiple strands of beads and chains glittered in the light from the chandelier and her bangles chimed merrily as she poured the tea into their cups.

"This is a special blend of orange, lavender, and Pekoe tea. It is very calming and soothing. I always have this after a long day of using the Inner Eye, it helps me to relax. Do try some."

"Thank you, Professor," Arista said politely, accepting her cup from Trelawney's hand. Calming and soothing? I could sure use some of that today. She added three spoonfuls of sugar and sipped it. To her surprise, the tea was actually quite good, it had a tangy yet sweet flavor. "This is excellent. Did you make this yourself?"

"But of course. I always make my own tea blends, it's the only way to ensure the best quality of tea." She sipped her own, peering at Arista from her overlarge spectacles, which magnified her eyes to twice their size, giving the impression of a curious owl.

She gestured to the tray of sandwiches, cut into neat triangles and star shapes. "Do have some cucumber and cheese sandwiches, dear girl. The cucumbers are from Professor Sprout's garden."

Arista took one of each shape, though she was not particularly fond of cucumbers. She ate them anyway, her stomach was growling, thinking wistfully of a roast beef sub with lettuce, tomato, mayo, and cheese on a toasted roll. There were also little  
iced gingerbread cakes and she ate three of them, for gingerbread was her favorite.

Trelawney chatted with her about inconsequential things, asking her how she liked Hogwarts, how her father was, and if she planned to stay on here for the fall term. Arista answered the questions as best she could, wondering what the teacher could find so interesting about a mere thirteen-year-old, even if she was Professor Snape's daughter.

Then Trelawney leaned forward and fixed her with a piercing stare and said, "I was wondering, do you know of any practitioners of the Sight in America? I have heard they are quite well-respected over there."

"Um . . .well, there's Sylvia Barone, she's a psychic that works with the Dark Hunters." Arista recalled. "She helped my teachers on quite a few cases. She finds missing kids and people who have disappeared and that kind of thing."

Apparently, that was not what the professor was looking for. "I see. That must be . . . exhausting, to use one's Inner Eye in such a fashion. Is there no one else that you know of?"

"I'm sorry, I never met that many magicians who had the Sight. I was a Dark Hunter's apprentice," Arista apologized. "Uh . . .wait, there was one other one, her name was Madame Rosvita the Gypsy Fortune Teller, she . . .umm. . . .worked the strip in Las  
Vegas."

Trelawney gasped. "You've been to Las Vegas? A young girl like you?"

"Well, yeah. Not in the casinos or anything, but my guardians were working a case, trying to catch a guy that was selling fake amulets . . ." Arista explained hastily, wanting to hit herself._ Great, just great! I hope she never tells my father that, he'll flip out, even though nothing happened. _"I couldn't get in to see Madame Rosvita, though, she was too expensive."

"I see," Trelawney sniffed, disappointed. "I had hoped . . ."

_Hoped what? That I could put you in touch with Psychics of America? Sorry, Professor, but you're barking up the wrong tree. Private investigators I know, not Seers_. Then Arista had an idea. Perhaps Trelawney could use her Inner Eye and find Nightshade  
for her. She wondered why none of them had thought of it before.

"Er . . .Professor, have you ever used your, uh, Sight to find someone?"

"_Find_ someone? Like a lost child?"

"Not exactly. I mean, a person who's hiding."

Trelawney coughed, then said, "You must understand, dear, that the Sight is not like a dog, it does not always come when you call. Sometimes it chooses the time and place, and the Seer must accept that."

"But you _can _use it to find people?"

"Yes . . .I suppose one may . . ."

"If I asked you to find someone, could you do it?"

"I, well that would depend. I don't use the Inner Eye frivolously, you understand."

"No, it's not like that, Professor," Arista said quickly. "This is important. A matter of life and death."

Trelawney blinked. "Life and death? Whatever do you mean, Arista?"

"I want you to use your Sight to find Livia Nightshade."

"Livia _Nightshade_? The criminal?"

"Yeah, that's her. We need to find her, before she kills someone else, she's already hurt Jenna Flynn, one of my teachers. Can you find her for me?"

"I don't know. I've never done anything like that before."

"Will you try? _Please_, Professor?" Arista begged, giving Trelawney her most pleading little girl stare.

"I-I . . .very well," Trelawney gave in. "Let me get my crystal ball." She reached under the table and withdrew a large crystal ball upon a claw-footed copper pedestal. She set it before her and folded her hands. "I can't promise you anything, the future cannot be known . . . perhaps a deck of Tarot cards would be better . . .I see . . .I see . . ." Trelawney began to gasp, peering into the crystal ball, her hands white-knuckled fists upon the tabletop.

Suddenly, her eyes rolled back in her head, and she slumped in her chair, trembling all over.

Arista stared at her in horror. _Now I'm sorry I asked!_ "Professor? Are you all right?"

Trelawney jerked upright, as if pulled by a giant hand. Her eyes were wide and unseeing. She began to shake violently. _Oh man, looks like she's having some kind of fit._ The teacups rattled in their saucers. Arista rose to her feet and came around the table, grabbing a teaspoon as she did so. _I'm probably the only Hogwarts student in the history of creation that made her teacher have a seizure by asking her a question. My father's gonna kill me for sure! _  
She reached Trelawney and touched her with a hand, tapping into her healing power. Strangely, her power could not find anything wrong with the Divination teacher. She registered as normal.

Arista felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle in warning. Then Trelawney said in a deep hoarse voice: **"The one you seek is in the Houses of Healing. Beware, for the Pretty Poison shall be the Potion Master's doom, only love can save him, a love that was lost and found again, called forth by an orphaned child. Thus have I Seen."**

"What are you saying? That my father is going to die?" Arista cried, backing away from the Seer, her heart pounding crazily in her chest. "That _can't _be right! Nightshade can't kill him too! Then I'll have no one." Tears began to trickle down her cheeks.

Professor Trelawney gasped sharply and then woke up from the Seer's trance that had possessed her. She blinked, rubbed her eyes, and focused on Arista, who was looking at her as if she were the Grim Reaper, crying silently.

"Arista, what's the matter?"

"You—you Saw . . .in your crystal ball . . .that Nightshade was going to kill my father!" the girl wailed.

"I saw Professor Snape _die?"_ Trelawney repeated in astonishment.

"That's what you said . . .don't you remember?"

"No . . .I'm afraid not . . .when I See something strongly sometimes I can't recall exactly what I saw while I was in the trance . . .Did I say anything, child?"

"Yeah. You said that Nightshade was going to kill my dad."

"What were my exact words, child? Can you recall them? You might not be interpreting the vision correctly." Trelawney said.

"I'll never forget them," Arista gulped, drawing a hand across her eyes. She repeated verbatim the eerie words Trelawney had spoken.

"_Beware the Pretty Poison_—that must refer to Nightshade. _She shall be the Potion Master's doom,_" Trelawney recited.

"See? That's the part where you said he was going to die."

"But there is more. _Only love can save him, a love that was lost and found again, called forth by an orphaned child. _Don't you see, Arista? There is hope yet. Your father can still be saved."

"By a love that was lost and found? How can that be possible?"

"I don't know. But it would not be given me to See if it were not able to happen. Professor Snape will be saved by love, a love called forth by you, child."

"Me? But the prophecy said _an orphaned child_. I've only lost one parent."

"But were you not raised in an orphanage?" Trelawney pointed out.

"Yes. I grew up thinking I was an orphan," Arista said softly. "Of course! I get it now. Then only I can save my father from Nightshade."

"Only you, Arista Snape." Trelawney pronounced.

"But where is Nightshade? What are the _Houses of Healing_?"

"I believe that refers to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies."

"Right. That makes sense, he was going to check on Jenna today. How much time do I have before this prophecy you saw comes true?"

Trelawney frowned. "I would say, from the strength of the vision, that it could happen soon . . .very soon."

"Then I'd better get over to St. Mungo's double quick!" Arista said, turning to run out the door. "Sorry to eat and run, Professor, you were great! Bye!"

Trelawney watched her go, wincing as the girl jumped down two steps at a time, the pounding shaking the tower room. "How extraordinary! This is the second True Seeing I've ever had. I must inform Dumbledore." She yawned suddenly. "Later, I'll tell  
him later. For now, I think I shall take a nap. Using the Sight always exhausts me."

Arista ran all the way out into the courtyard, stopping just before the front entrance to the castle. She peered up into the sky, it was a leaden gray color, warning of a storm. She cupped her hands about her mouth and shouted as loud as she could, "Fireflash! Fireflash! I need you!"

Then she waited. The sky remained empty. Clouds scudded across it, but nowhere could she catch a glimpse of a bronze scale.

"Fireflash!" she yelled again. "Oh, where are you, you stupid dragon?"

"What's the problem, sweetie?" came a bass roar.

"Fireflash! There you are!" she cried, as the bronze dragon swooped into the courtyard, landing before her in a gust of wind that nearly blew her over. "You've got to help me. I need to get to St. Mungo's."

"St. Mungo's? That's the hospital Jenna's at." The dragon said, lowering his head so he could look Arista in the eye. "But your father told me you weren't to leave the school grounds unless he gave his express permission."

"Never mind that. He didn't know about the prophecy."

"What prophecy?"

"The one where Nightshade kills him," Arista snapped impatiently. "Now do you see why I've got to get to St. Mungo's? She's there and she's going to kill him unless I stop her."

"Stop her how? You're only an apprentice."

"I don't know how, only that I'm the only one who can! Don't bother me with details now, Flash, just take me to the hospital. If we stand here arguing, it'll be too late. And if my father dies, I'll never forgive you!"

"Whoa! Take it easy, kid. All right, seeing as it's an emergency . . ." He extended a foreleg. Then he muttered a word in dragonspeech and the dragonsaddle appeared on his back, cinched and ready to go. "Hop on, Arista. I'll have you at St. Mungo's in five minutes."

Arista climbed up the dragon's leg and fastened herself into the flight seat. "Thanks, Fireflash! You're the best!"

"Sure I am," the dragon snorted, blowing purple mist over the girl. "You be careful, girl, because if you get hurt, your father will nail my wings to a wall. I shouldn't even be doing this . . .but seeing as it's in Sev's best interest . . ."

He spread his wings and sprang into the air. Arista closed her eyes and prayed that Trelawney had interpreted the prophecy correctly.


	15. The Pretty Poison

**The Pretty Poison**

﻿Fireflash landed on the lawn in front of the hospital, giving Arista a concerned look.  
"You sure they're here, kid? Because Colin told me they were going to track Nightshade to her lair, not visit his wife."

"That's what the prophecy said, and all I can do is follow it. If she's not here already, she will be." Arista said firmly. "What room is Jenna in, do you know?"

"Uh, 414. What difference does that make?"

"Because spiders always return to their prey," Arista answered. "Nightshade won't like the fact that Jenna's still alive. I think she'll come back to finish her off."

The dragon eyed her consideringly. "Yeah, I can see that sly witch doing that. Best get going, kid. Find your father before the witch does, then stay the hell out of their way when the fighting starts."

"Will do, Flash!" Arista waved, then bolted into the hospital. She raced past the information desk, ignoring the shouts of the receptionist on duty. "Hey kid, come back here! You can't just run around in here like that. This is a hospital, not a playground. Hey! You can't go up there without a visitor's pass!"

"Sorry! It's an emergency!" Arista yelled over her shoulder, hitting the blue door marked 2nd Floor with her shoulder. It crashed open and she bounded up the stairs, whispering a charm that gave her the speed of a gazelle.

* * * * * *  
Severus Snape had never felt such pain in all of his life. Not all the beatings of his childhood could compare to it. He felt as if he were being torn apart inch by inch, then dropped into a vat of acid. He could barely see for the tears that filled his eyes, his whole world was a red and black blur. His teeth were clenched so tight it was a miracle they did not break to pieces. Yet he would not give her the satisfaction of hearing him scream. The witch would never make him beg. Voldemort had never done so, and he was not about to give into a third-rate conjurer whose one claim to fame was killing children and Dark Hunters.

He blinked the tears from his eyes and glared at her defiantly, fighting the agony coursing through him with every bit of willpower he possessed. _You can make me kneel to you, hag of hell, but you'll never see me beg! Never! I'll die first. _  
Her laughter, low and sweet, echoed in his ears. "Had enough, Potions Master? Will you call me Mistress now, you naughty boy? Or shall I give you another lesson in manners?"

All at once she gestured, and the excruciating pain was gone. But he did not dare open his mouth, for fear he would start sobbing in relief, and so he contented himself with giving her his most potent glare, the one that could freeze students in their tracks from fifty feet away.

He was on his knees before Jenna's bed, they had returned to the hospital because that was where the tracking spell Colin had cast led them. Both of them had concluded that Nightshade must have doubled back to finish off Jenna before she went into hiding again. Neither of them had suspected it was a trap.

_Stupid! We were so stupid!_ His mind raged. _We walked right into her snare, like flies into a spider web._ Nightshade stood before him, a pleased smile playing about her lips, which were painted a bright red. They stood out against her porcelain skin like rubies against the snow. She was beautiful, tall and slender, wrapped all in gray silk, her hair was a brilliant black, save for an icy white lock on her left side. Braided on either side of her hair were long white finger bones, the bones of all the victims she had killed, she'd informed him. "My trophies. Aren't they pretty?" she'd laughed, shaking her head so the bones rattled. "Shall I add your finger to them, sweet Severus? Oh yes, I know of you, Potions Master! Your name was the last word  
Amelia Amarotti ever spoke. She died calling for you, her beloved, to save her. With her last breath she begged you to come . . .only you never did!"

She laughed again, a high wild sound, chillingly beautiful in its madness. "Shall I send you to join her then? You can be together in death as you never could in life."

He'd spat at her then, resulting in her losing her temper and using the Cruciatus Curse on him. The first time. This time was the second.

They'd been so certain that this time they would capture her, and Colin had been so concerned about Jenna, that they hadn't bothered to check for traps before entering the injured magician's hospital room. Colin had been a little ahead of him, guided by the tracking spell, but the moment both of them had crossed the threshold, they'd triggered the magical booby trap she'd set.

The explosion had been soundless, but powerful enough to send them both flying across the room. Colin had hit the wall and been knocked out, as far as Severus could determine. The explosion had hurt him, but not badly enough to knock him unconscious, only stun him somewhat and knock his wand from his hand.

That had been all the opening Nightshade had needed. She had stepped out from the shadows behind the door where she'd been hiding, waiting for them to appear, and snatched his wand up in one lightning quick move.

"Silly English wizard," she'd sneered, taking his chin in one long-nailed hand and forcing him to look at her. "So easy to disarm you. No wand, no magic. Not the case with me. My magic is in here," and she'd wiggled an index finger, smirking.

"You planned this," he hissed, trying to shake the cobwebs from his brain.

"Naturally. You didn't think I'd be stupid enough to leave my hair lying about like that, did you? I may be pretty, but I'm not as dumb as I look." She smiled then, a cold vicious smile. "I am the Pretty Poison, and all who see me must die."

He'd tried to meet her eyes with his own, because if he could get into her mind, he might have a chance, but she refused to meet his gaze, her blue eyes glanced away. Then she'd cast the Cruciatus Curse and all he could focus on was enduring the awful pain.

The only thought that comforted him was that at least Arista was safe at Hogwarts, where Nightshade could not reach her. His only regrets were that he would never see her grow up, that she would be alone as he had been alone, and that his last words to her in this world had been spoken in anger.

"Have you nothing to say then?" Nightshade cooed. "No last words before I send you to join your precious Amelia?"

Severus bared his teeth in a defiant grin.

Nightshade lifted her hand, pointed at him.

The door burst open and something slammed into the tall witch, sending her flying.

"Get off of him, you hag from hell!"

He looked up . . .and saw Arista standing before him, glaring daggers at Nightshade, who was coming up off the floor spitting teeth, the words to that killing spell still on her lips.

"Arista!** No**!" he howled.

She did not look at him, though his cry made her shudder. "Mom! Help me, Mom!" she whispered, calling with all the force of her empathic gift, summoning the mother she had never known to protect her only child.

"_Avada_—"

"_Silencio_!"

Nightshade's curse was cut off abruptly, and she whirled to face this new threat, one hand going to her throat. Her eyes widened in disbelief.

For there in the doorway was Amelia Amarotti.

The petite Dark Hunter was outlined in a soft nimbus of blue light, but she was unmistakably there. "Surprise, Nightshade!" Amelia snarled, her eyes gleaming with the fires of battle. "You thought I was gone for good, didn't you?"

Nightshade's throat worked, her hand tracing a counter-charm. "I-impossible! I _killed_ you!" she rasped.

"True. But nothing is impossible with magic. I made a bargain with God. He agreed  
that I could come back to protect my child one last time . . .and to kick your ass while I'm at it."

"_Avada Kedavra_!" Nightshade spat, pointing at Amelia.

Green light shot from her fingertip . . .and was turned aside.

"That won't work on me any more, Livia. The usual rules don't apply to one who has one foot in the spirit realm." Amelia declared. Then she sprang at the other woman, slamming her in the jaw with a lightning quick roundhouse.

"_That_ was for hurting my husband!"

Her other hand flashed forward, nailing the gasping Nightshade in the stomach. "And _that_ was for scaring my daughter."

Nightshade was doubled over, wheezing, unable to breathe. Snape's wand fell from her grasp and rolled beneath the bed.

Amelia grabbed her by the collar, hauling her upright and flinging her across the room. She hit the opposite wall with a bone jarring thud.

"And _that's_ for Colin and Jenna."

Nightshade made a mewling sound, one hand stretched out in a pleading gesture.

Amelia gazed at her coldly. "I will give you the same mercy you gave me. None." She lifted a hand, making a flinging gesture. "_Draco Inferio_!"

There was a flash of brilliant bluish-gold heat and Nightshade was gone. All that remained of her was fine black ash, which scattered in the wind Amelia summoned. "Debt paid, Nightshade."

"Mom?" Arista whispered, her voice quivering. "Is that really you?"

"It's me, baby." Amelia turned and smiled at her daughter, coming to place her hands on Arista's shoulders. "I don't have long, and there's something I need to show you. Something that will help you heal the Longbottoms, that only an empath can teach you." She bent and kissed her daughter on the forehead. "_Remember_." The blue light surrounded them for a moment. The next instant it was gone.

Arista hugged her for a long moment. "I love you, Mom."

"I know. I love you too." Then she turned to look at Severus, who had managed to climb to his feet and was now leaning against the wall.

"Severus." In that one word was all of the love in her heart.

"Amelia." His voice was the same as hers.

For an instant they stared at each other, disbelief and joy mingled in their eyes.

Then he held out his arms and she ran into them. "I never got to say goodbye," she whispered. "But now I can." Then she kissed him, and in her kiss was all the warmth and love she bore him, magic that healed and renewed, sweeping through him in a dizzying rush.

Then she drew away. "I can't stay. But I'll be waiting, Sev. You're the very best thing ever. Remember me." She pressed something into his hand.

Then she was gone in a soft halo of blue light.

Severus looked down. In his hand was a gold wedding band. He smiled through his tears. Amelia had understood the deepest wish of his heart. But then, she always had.

He slipped the gold band on his finger. It fit perfectly.

Then he turned to his daughter. "Arista Eileen Snape, _what_ did you think you were doing?"

"Saving your life."

Laughing, he caught her in a hug that swept her off her feet.

**A/N--So what did you think of this? Did you like my little surprise? She kept her promise to Sev after all. Next up Arista sets out to prove that nothing is impossible with magic by healing Neville's parents! Thanks to all my reviewers:)**


	16. Nothing is Impossible with Magic

**Nothing Is Impossible With Magic**

﻿Professor Snape escorted Arista back to St. Mungo's the next afternoon, so she could  
fulfill her promise to Neville and heal his parents. With the knowledge Amelia had given her, she could now penetrate the barriers the Longbottoms had placed about their minds and bring them out of their thirteen-year-old prison into the world once more.

Before that, however, she had healed Colin of his concussion and woken Jenna from her sleep. The two Dark Hunters were very grateful for her intervention, but also sorry they'd missed Amelia's big reunion with Nightshade.

"Figures. I always miss the good stuff," Jenna had grumbled good-naturedly.

Then they'd all flown back to Hogwarts on Fireflash.

"I ought to skin you, letting my daughter go running off to face a dark witch like that," Snape scolded the bronze once they'd landed in the courtyard.

"Hey, if I hadn't brought her there, you'd have died," the dragon pointed out.

"Just for that, I'll forgive you. This time."

Fireflash grinned toothily. "Aww, quit complaining, Sev. All's well that ends well." He eyed Arista, who was climbing down from her seat. "Right, kid?"

"Right."

"Who asked _you_?" her father frowned at her. Then he put an arm around her and they walked into the castle.

Arista was so tired she fell asleep before her head touched the pillow, and she slept  
all the way through breakfast the next morning. So did Colin, Jenna, and Severus. When they awoke all of them were ravenous and ate like a pack of werewolves.

Then Snape questioned Arista about the knowledge Amelia had given her. She couldn't explain it very well, it was something an empath knew intuitively. Then he agreed to take her back to St. Mungo's. They had both decided to mention nothing of their visit to Neville until Arista had worked her magic on the Longbottoms.

Now they stood in the waiting room of the hospital, while Snape tried to convince the hospital director to let them upstairs and let Arista try to cure the Longbottoms.

The director was understandably shocked at the request, which was not really a request the way her father put it to him, but more of an order. But somehow Snape managed, Arista never figured out quite how, through a combination of silky reasoning and a few pointed glares, to get the director to agree to allow Arista to try and heal  
Neville's parents.

The director led the way to the Longbottoms' room, instructing them that they must be quiet, as most of the patients in this wing were sleeping. The director spoke to the nurse on duty, informing her of the two new visitors. She threw Arista a glance of utter disbelief.

"Is this some kind of_ joke_, Doctor? This—this _little girl_ is going to heal Frank and Alice Longbottom?"

"Um . . .yes, I know it's not the usual thing, but I have agreed to let her try . . ." the director sputtered, growing very red-faced.

"That's the most _ridiculous_ thing I've ever heard of," the nurse snickered. She shut up when Severus glared at her.

"That little girl has more power in her fingertip than you do in your entire body," he told her coldly. "Now keep your comments to yourself, if you don't mind! Come, Arista." He swept past them, cloak swirling, gently pushing Arista ahead of him.

Arista shot him a grateful smile. "Thanks, Dad."

"Nobody makes fun of my daughter," Snape said softly.

The room they entered was covered in brightly flowered wallpaper, daisies on a sky blue background. It had a thin faded blue carpet on the floor that muffled their footsteps somewhat. There were two beds in the room, side by side, both covered with the same cheerful comforters as the wallpaper. Two blue horsehair stuffed  
recliners were in front of the fireplace, which had a brightly crackling fire in the grate. There was also a small table and two chairs.

The room's occupants were still sound asleep, snoring softly. Snape looked at Arista. "Will it be easier if they're awake or asleep?"

"Asleep," Arista said immediately. "Awake they might fight me, this way their minds will be dreaming and it'll be easier for me to wander around in their heads."

"How long do you think it will take?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Twenty minutes, a couple of hours? I've never done this before."

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you? I can dreamwalk, you might need me. Some of their memories won't be pleasant. In fact, they'll probably be downright terrifying. I could block most of them."

"I know. But this is something only I can do. I'll be all right. Mom taught me how to shield, enough so whatever bad memories are inside their heads won't overwhelm me." She reassured him. He still looked uneasy. She picked up a chair and positioned it directly inbetween the two beds, where she could sit down and touch both Frank and Alice Longbottom comfortably.

"If you're sure . . ."

"I am. Mom told me what to do." She tapped her forehead. "It's all in here. Now, remember, you can't touch me once I start this, Dad. Even if it looks like I'm passed out or screaming or whatever. I've got to come back on my own."

"I know," he said irritably. "I know better than to break a magician's concentration during spellcasting, young lady, who's the teacher here?"

"Just making sure," she said, and gave him a flippant grin. Then she looked at the two sleeping patients and her face became serious, focused. "Well, here goes. Nothing is impossible with magic."

She walked over to the chair between the beds and sat down. Then she took four deep breaths, counting to ten before releasing each one. She closed her eyes. Then she placed a hand upon Alice's forehead and one on Frank's, resting her fingertips lightly on their temples and the middle of their forehead. A soft white glow spread  
from her hands down over the sleeping wizards' heads.

Snape dragged over a recliner and sat at the foot of Frank's bed, his hands gripping the armrest so tightly it left marks in his palms. He leaned forward and watched intently, wishing there was something else he could do besides watch. _You can't protect her from everything, Severus. This was what she was born to do, she's a  
Healer to her fingertips. All you can do is make sure nothing disturbs her, and let her do what she came here to do. _

He forced himself to sit back in the chair, though he badly wanted to move about. He stamped that feeling back down and reminded himself to be patient. Amelia would never put their daughter into danger she wouldn't be able to handle. He had to trust  
her. And Arista—his beloved, reckless, courageous, little girl. _Show them all, child, what a true Healer can do, one for whom nothing is impossible with magic_.

* * * * * *  
Arista walked through a gray featureless landscape, one in which nothing moved. It was flat, like the Nevada desert, nothing grew there, not even a single solitary blade of grass. The dirt beneath her feet squelched, it was spongy, kind of like a swamp, though the air above was hot and dry. That didn't make sense, it wasn't logical, but  
then she knew logic played no part here.

This was the world of Frank and Alice Longbottom's minds, the usual rules didn't apply here. In the landscape of the mind, their whim ruled all. _Except me. I walk their memories, but I am apart from them, _she reminded herself. That was an important thing to remember, according to Amelia. She must not let herself be drawn into their  
world, no matter how real it might seem. She was the empath, her job was to remain apart from their mind, to feel and not feel, see and not see, so she could find where they had hidden themselves.

She continued walking through the gray land, extending her empathic powers out a little bit at a time, like a cat twitching her whiskers. There! Off to the left, was that a flash of light? A tinge of red lit up the gray land. She turned toward it, she could feel  
something coming, something running towards her—anger, fear, and hunger.

She shielded, bringing up a hand instinctively to block whatever was attacking her. A red creature with long fangs, a pointed tail, and a barbed whip, trotted into view. It had bat ears and eyes the color of yellow bile. It gave a loud screech when it caught sight of her.

"Hello, pretty. My name is Pain. Want to play?"

It lashed out with the barbed whip.

Arista dodged, the whip sank into the ground with a stunning crack. The creature howled, a dreadful sound.

"No fair! You're to submit to me, not play hard to get!" it cried, lunging at her again.

Again Arista was too quick. She rolled away from the grasping claws. This was part of the defenses the Longbottoms had put up to prevent anyone from finding them. She threw out a hand, summoning part of her empathic gift. "Pain is no stranger to a Healer. I bid you sleep."

She projected waves of healing sleep at the cackling red demon. It screamed, flailing the whip uselessly. "No! Must stop . . .Mustn't let you go!"

"Sleep." Arista repeated, focusing harder. "Your pain is ended."

The demon called Pain writhed, then crumpled up on the ground, unable to withstand her empathic command. Within moments it was sound asleep and Arista slipped past it.

She moved onward, and the landscape changed abruptly. No longer gray and featureless, it suddenly became thick with trees and vines, vines that crept up over her feet and arms, imprisoning her. They had sharp barbs that cut cruelly in her skin. She winced, began to struggle as the creepers wrapped about her, hissing and murmuring.

"There is no escape from me, child. For I am Despair and I shall hold you fast in my tendrils until you wither away and die."

The vines tightened, and the barbs stabbed into her, drawing blood and sending a strange sleepy, burning lassitude through her.

"Sleep, yes, that's right . . .Sleep and forget, forget the world, it doesn't matter . . ." the vines crooned, moving up to cover her neck.

She yawned . . .she was so tired . . _.No! What am I doing? I can't go to sleep, this isn't real. _She forced her eyes open, glaring down at the vines with their poisoned barbs. _This ISN'T real. I will not give into this false comfort . . ._She marshaled her power once more, sending it down through the vines, making them writhe and draw away.

"Release me. Hope is the antidote to Despair."

She filled herself with hope, hope that was bright and shining, and allowed it to flow over her, soaking into the vines. "Those who know Hope cannot feel Despair."

The creepers turned black and crumbled away into ash, leaving her free to continue on her way.

She frowned down at herself. She was covered in bleeding scratches and her clothes were torn. She concentrated, using a trickle of her healing gift. The scratches vanished.

Arista took another step. This time she looked out over a black world filled with high jagged spires and rocky outcroppings. The wind blew through the tall peaks, making a terrible screaming sound. Arista put her hands up to cover her ears.

The wind swirled about her, and inside the wind were faces, faces that were horribly twisted and weeping, all of them screaming and shrieking. They reached for her with clawed hands. Their eyes gleamed redly, like fiery coals.

"Come to us, child! Come to us and know the taste of Fear! We hunger!"

Now their mouths gaped wide, displaying fangs the size of her arm. The shrieking howls intensified.

Arista screamed and turned to run. Behind her the Furies screamed in delight.

_Never run from what you fear!_ Her mother's voice echoed in her head. _Running only intensifies it. You must look it in the face and then it loses its power over you._

She could feel one of their sharp claws close over her ankle, biting deep into her leg.

She tore free with a howl of pain. "Get off me!" Then she whirled around, both hands coming up. "You want to taste something? Eat this, then! Strength devours Fear!"

She blasted the Furies with a wave of strength, it smashed into them and left them in tatters. "Face what you Fear and Fear is banished!" she chanted, projecting determination and strength with all she was.

The Furies wailed, shrieking so loud she feared her eardrums would explode. But they could not withstand her conviction and gradually their wails died to murmurs until they too were gone and the black land was silent and still.

She fell to her knees, panting and shaking. That last construct had taken more from her than she wanted to give. Her legs felt like molten lead, impossibly heavy. Her head drooped. _I'm so tired, so very tired. I want to go home. This is so hard. I don't know if I can do this. _

She blinked, rubbing her eyes, they were gritty from the dust the Furies had thrown up. She stared out over the dark land in distaste. She did not want to get up, it felt so nice to sit here.

_Giving up so soon, worthless child?_ A woman's voice laughed, cold and cruel as winter. _Want to turn back? Go home, girl, go home and cry to your daddy, just like all the rest of them. Give up, you cannot win. Not even a Healer's touch can defeat Bellatrix Lestrange. _

Arista jerked her head up, anger and embarrassment flooding her. Before her stood a tall woman with dark hair and a haughty face with cruel eyes. Her lips curved in a mocking leer. Arista scrambled to her feet. "A Snape bows her head to no one, witch! Especially not to _you_!"

Bellatrix laughed. Arista had never heard anything sound less like mirth in her life. _That's what they all say. Until I go to work on them. After a few hours, they break to pieces. It may take a few days, but eventually they all crack. Even Aurors. Like Frank and Alice. Shall I show you what I did to them, girl? Would you like to see? _She lunged forward, and this time Arista was not fast enough. Bellatrix seized her shoulder in a relentless grip, her touch burning like fire.

Arista screamed, as memories of unbearable agony cascaded over her.

* * * * * *  
His daughter's scream brought Severus to his feet in one lightning quick lunge, one hand reaching for his wand. Only there was no enemy for him to fight. Arista was still in the chair, her hands clamped over the Longbottoms' foreheads, still glowing with that white light.

Her eyes were closed, but tears now ran from beneath her lashes. She whimpered and moaned, throwing her head from side to side, clearly in agony. But her hands never moved. Frank and Alice were restless too, tossing slightly and whimpering.

Snape took one step forward, his hand reaching out instinctively to hold his child.

_Stop! You musn't touch her, remember?_ He halted just in time, trembling with the awful need to comfort his crying daughter. _Even if it looks like I'm passed out or screaming or whatever, I've got to come back from this on my own_.

He clenched his hands so tightly his nails cut into his palms. "Fight them, Arista!" he urged. "Don't give up. Fight and win!"

Then he made himself turn away and sit down, a sick helpless feeling in the pit of his stomach.

* * * * * *  
_Did you like my little entertainment, child?_ Bellatrix said, smirking wickedly. _Wasn't it fun? Shall I play like that with you too? _

Arista stepped away from the gloating sorceress. "Get lost, Bellatrix. _You're_ not real either. You're just a dream and a memory."

Her shields had remained up during that whole awful session, so although she was forced to watch, she could not truly feel the agony Bellatrix had inflicted on Neville's parents. Which was just as well, for if she had, it would have driven her mad. A part of her had cried and screamed and begged along with the Longbottoms, but the true  
essence of herself had remained locked away, safe behind her triple- strength empathic shields, shields Amelia had given her the knowledge to construct.

_A memory, am I? I think not!_ Bellatrix stormed, her beautiful face twisting into a grotesque mask of hatred. _Here I am the reality, child. I rule here, not you. _"Wrong, Bellatrix!" Arista challenged, drawing herself up to her full height and looking the witch straight in the eye. "You rule nothing, for you are nothing. Nothing but lies and deception. _That_ is the reality. See yourself for what you are, nightmare! The Truth will win always over Lies." She clenched her fists together and cried, "Feel  
_my_ power, Bellatrix!"

Then she sent a bolt of unvarnished truth straight into the smirking sorceress.

Bellatrix staggered, going to her knees. _"Noo! I AM real! This cannot be!" _"Oh, just shut up and die already!" Arista snarled.

Bellatrix vanished after one last howl of defiance.

Arista shook her head. _That was the worst thing yet. What's next? _  
She took a step forward and the black land blurred, reforming into a high stone tower. In the center of the tower was a tall door bound with iron and locked with a thousand locks.

She extended her senses outward, and was rewarded by the touch of two minds in return. They were behind the locked door, safe in their impregnable tower. Or so they thought.

Arista walked up to the door and knocked on it sharply.

"Go away!" a woman's voice called. "We're not receiving visitors today."

"Leave us alone!" cried a man's voice. "We don't want to see anyone."

"Why not?" Arista asked.

"Quit bothering us!" the man's voice sounded again. "We're quite comfortable in here, now go back home and leave us be."

"I can't do that, sir. Won't you open the door and let me in?"

"Why should we do that?" the woman snapped. "We don't even know who you are."

Arista set both palms on the door. "I am Love," she answered. Then she released the last of her shields. A brilliant glow spread outward from her hands.

And the impregnable tower with its iron bound door melted away.

"Love conquers all," she declared softly. Then she stepped forward to take the hands of the plump brown-haired woman in the blue robes and the tall black-haired man in the red robes. "Hello, Frank and Alice Longbottom. You don't have to hide any more. I'm here to take you home. My name is Arista Snape. Won't you come with me?"

"But what about . . ._ Bellatrix_?" Alice hissed, looking about her fearfully.

"And the Furies?" said Frank.

"They're gone. You're safe now. Nothing will ever hurt you like that again." Arista smiled, sending them love and reassurance down the link. "Come on, it's time to go home."

"But we don't know the way," protested Alice.

"That's okay. I do. Just follow me." She tugged on their hands. "This way. You know, your son Neville's been waiting ages to meet you . . ."

The Longbottoms exchanged glances. Then they followed obediently at Arista's heels, as she led them from their prison back into the world once more.

* * * * * *  
The woman and the man slowly opened their eyes, seeing their surroundings for the first time. They stared at the unfamiliar room, at each other, and then at the slender girl who was sitting between them, one hand resting lightly on their heads.

Arista drew her hands away and grinned at them. "Welcome back. You've been asleep for thirteen years. Sort of."

"I _have?"_ Alice gasped, staring down at herself.

"Where are we?" asked Frank, sitting up.

"You're in St, Mungo's," Snape answered quickly. "My name is Severus Snape, and this is my daughter Arista." He came over to stand beside her, putting an arm about her.

"You brought us back," Alice said wonderingly.

"But how did you find us?" Frank asked, his brow furrowing.

"I'm an empath. All I did was listen to your hearts." Arista answered simply.

The director burst into the room. "It's been over three hours, if you haven't obtained any progress by now—" he trailed off at the sight of the Longbottoms sitting up and smiling at each other, their eyes lucid and aware for the first time in thirteen years.

He put a hand to his heart. "B-But this is—it's-why it's _impossible_! All of us have tried for _years_, and we could never . . . What you did is unheard of, young lady!"

"No it isn't. Look at them," Arista gestured to the Longbottoms. "Nothing is impossible, Doctor, if you believe in magic." She looked up at her father. "Let's go and get Neville, Dad. Then I'm going to sleep for a week."

"An excellent idea," said Professor Snape. Then he picked up his daughter and carried her out of the room. Arista did not even bother to protest. By the time they'd Apparated back to Hogwarts, she was soundly asleep, her head resting on his shoulder.

**A/N: So what did you think of this? Does the allegory work? Next up, Arista and Sev return to Spinners End for some much needed father-daughter time.**


	17. Return to the Glen

**Return to the Glen**

_﻿Three days later: _

"Not another reporter!" groaned Arista Snape, ducking into the Slytherin common room through the portrait hole. "Quick, Neville, get in here before they see us!" she yanked Neville Longbottom through. "Why can't they leave us alone? I don't want to do another stupid interview." She threw herself down onto the black leather couch.

"Me neither," Neville agreed, glancing curiously around the room at the elegant furnishings. He had never seen the inside of the Slytherin common room before. "If one more reporter asks me how it feels to have my parents back again, I'm going to hex their camera and break it."

"They'd just buy a new one," Arista sighed, gesturing him to a seat. He sat down gingerly on the end of the couch, looking up at the huge portrait of Salazar Slytherin that hung over the fireplace.

The ancient wizard glowered down at him disapprovingly. "A _Gryffindor_, in _my_ common room! What is this school coming to?"

"Stuff it, Salazar," Arista ordered. "My father's Head of Slytherin House now and I invited him here, so just shut your mouth, okay?"

"Well, I_ never_!" huffed the black-robed Founder of Slytherin. Then he turned his back on them, muttering about children these days having no respect for their elders. "You all should be beaten!"

"Oh, get over yourself!" Arista snorted. "Before I cover you with the curtain again." She indicated the heavy green velvet drape rolled up above the portrait. "Sometimes that's the only way to shut him up, the conceited old bigot."

Neville burst out laughing. That was too much for Salazar, and he left his portrait in a huff.

"Stupid portrait. Him and the stupid reporters are going to drive me insane. I wish there was a place we could go to, somewhere far far away, where nobody would ever find us."

"Actually, there _is _such a place," declared Professor Snape, coming into the room through the portrait hole followed by Jenna and Colin. "I was just discussing it with Colin and Jenna."

Neville stared at Snape in amazement. For his professor was no longer wearing his usual black teaching ensemble. Instead he was dressed in regular clothes, black pants and a silvery gray shirt with black sneakers. He shot a half-amused, half-irritated glance at the boy. "Now what are you gaping at me like that for, Longbottom? Believe it or not, I _do_ own other clothes besides wizard robes."

Neville blushed and looked at his feet.

Snape ignored him, moving to stand in front of the fireplace. "Anyway, as I was saying, I think it would be a good idea to relocate for awhile, now that all this business with Nightshade is over with."

"Amen to that!" Arista said eagerly. "Where to?"

"We could move back to my house in London," Snape announced. "The reporters won't hound us so much over there. Except for you, Longbottom, you'll be staying with your parents, of course. Have they been released from the hospital yet?"

"Yes, sir. Just yesterday. We're going to move into my gran's house for now, just until my mother gets our old place settled." Neville said happily. Then he gave the professor an uneasy glance. "Uh, does this mean that I don't have to take my Potions final, sir?"

"What ever gave you that idea?" Snape barked. "You'll take it tomorrow at ten o'clock. I trust you've studied for it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Then you shouldn't have any trouble passing it this time."

Neville gulped. "No, sir."

Arista nudged him in the ribs. "I'll quiz you after lunch. After I finish packing."

Neville gave her a relieved look, then relaxed as he saw that Snape's attention was no longer focused on him. He was looking at Jenna Flynn, who was saying animatedly, "Colin and I discussed it last night, and we both agreed we deserve a little vacation after this case. So we wanted to stay a few extra days, help Arista get settled in, if  
that's okay with you, Severus?"

"Fine with me. But I'm going to warn you now, my house isn't very big. In fact, I'm going to have to add on another room for Arista."

"I can help you with that," Colin volunteered.

Snape nodded. "I'd appreciate it. We can leave tomorrow afternoon, I should have finished grading Longbottom's exam by then."

Neville paled. "I'd almost rather deal with another interview," he muttered under his breath.

Snape shot him an exasperated glance. "It's an _exam_ not a torture session, boy. You won't curl up and die over it. You ought to know the material backwards and forwards by now, since this is the second time you're repeating the course. Now, why don't you and Arista go and do something constructive with your time? Like finishing that homework essay I gave you yesterday?"

"Right away, sir. Sorry, sir, I forgot about it . . ." Neville babbled hastily, jumping to his feet.

"Never mind the excuses. Just turn it in to me sometime today, before I take points off of your average. Now go on, get out of here, both of you."

Neville didn't need to be told twice, he was through the portrait hole before Snape had finished his sentence.

Arista shot her father a reproving look. "That was mean, Dad."

"If I'm the worst thing he's got to be afraid of, he's lucky." He waved a hand at her in dismissal.

Arista went, peering around the corner for reporters before stepping out of the portrait hole.

* * * * * *  
Two days later, Severus, Arista, and Colin surveyed the new room that had been added to the little house on Spinner's End. It was a decent size, built over the kitchen, with a set of stairs leading up to it. It had one medium-sized window to the west that overlooked the small garden and the backyard, which had a large box hedge planted  
around it to keep it separate from the neighbors.

"Well?" Severus asked, looking at his daughter.

"It's great. I really love it," Arista said, walking about the room. "I can't believe how fast you did this."

"It helps when you've got two wizards casting the enlarging and construction spells," Colin said.

"Indeed," Severus agreed. "Now all this room needs is some furniture and a carpet and whatever else you teenage girls decorate your rooms with. I think Jenna should be able to assist you with that, because I doubt I'll be any good in that department."

"Uh, Dad? There's only one small problem."

"What's that?"

"I don't have any money."

"Oh. Right. Come with me." He led the way back down the stairs to the small alcove in the den where he had his desk. He muttered an unlocking charm and slid open a small drawer. "Here," he handed Arista a brass key engraved with the words Severus Snape No. 356. "Take whatever you need out of my account. Buy yourself furniture,  
blankets, pillows, whatever else you want. I suppose you need new school outfits as well. Oh, and here's your list of school supplies, might as well get them too as long as you're out." He handed her a list of parchment. "Don't forget the wand. As long as you attend Hogwarts, you'll need to use one."

"Sure. I won't forget." She beamed at him. "I can't believe you're actually letting me go _shopping!_ You're the best, Dad!" she stood up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. Then she raced off through the kitchen and out the back door, yelling, "Hey, Jenna! Let's go  
shopping!"

Colin stared at Severus in utter disbelief. "Tell me you didn't just do that, Severus."

"Do what?"

"You just gave your _bank key_ carte blanche to a thirteen-year-old girl and my wife and told them to go _shopping_."

"So? Would you rather have gone instead?"

Colin shuddered. "Not on your life! But you'll be lucky to have two Knuts to rub together by the time they're done, Snape."

"I have plenty of money, Flynn. There's thirteen years of my teaching salary plus bonus pay in that vault. All those years I had no one to spend it on. Now I do. Besides, I missed all those Christmases and birthdays with her, so maybe this will make up for it." Severus admitted with a small smile.

"You're crazy, Severus. But, hey, it's your money. Far be it for me to tell you how to let your daughter spend it." Colin shrugged and shook his head. "I'll send you the rest of her things when we get back home. It's a good thing you put in an expanding closet, because she's inherited all of Amelia's shoe collection."

"Good. Then she won't need shoes for the next millennium. Why don't we go into the den and relax? We should have time for a nap before they get back, at least."

"Sounds good to me." The blond-haired wizard said, pouring himself a glass of honey wine on the way there.

Four-and-a-half-hours later, Jenna and Arista returned, laden down with what seemed like the entire contents of Diagon Alley. Colin took one look at all the boxes and packages and started laughing. "All right, how much did you spend?" he asked once he'd regained control over himself.

"None of your business," Jenna returned. "It's Severus' account, not yours."

"Do I have anything left in it?" Snape asked softly, gazing about at all the packages in dismay.

"Of course," Jenna said indignantly. "I'm a bargain shopper, I'll have you know. I never pay retail for anything. There's over half of your money left, and we got everything we needed too." She placed the bank key in Severus's outstretched hand.

"Better count it, my friend." Colin advised. "You have no idea the kind of damage my wife can do."

"Shut up, Flynn. Before I deck you one," his wife threatened, shaking a fist under her husband's nose. Then she turned to Arista. "Okay, hon, let's get all of this upstairs and put away." She pointed a finger at all the various boxes, bags, and pieces of furniture that were scattered about the entryway and on the front lawn. "Everything line  
up! Now move out!"

All the packages started to fly up the stairs, one after the other, in an orderly line.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "What do you call that spell?"

Jenna smiled. "Moving Day. It's one of the most often used spells in a Hunter's arsenal." Then she followed after the last floating box. "See you in a bit, gentlemen."

An hour later, the two women had managed to transform the bare room into a teenage girl's bedroom. Arista had a pale blue carpet on the floor with a print of various animals walking about the border. Her bed was on the right, a soft blue comforter with cat pawprints on it was spread on the bed along with two of the softest griffin-down pillows. She had a large desk under the window, a bookshelf crammed full of books was next to it. An armoire and a vanity were across from them, on either side of the closet, where Arista stored all her extra clothes, school items, books and other odds and ends.

On the wall were several posters, one of an adorable looking puppy, another of the anatomy of a dragon, a human, and a cat. Another was a picture of an ocean view, so realistic you could hear waves hushing against the shore. The last one displayed a bottle of some kind of golden potion bubbling on a black background. The caption underneath the picture read _Have You Hugged Your Potions Master Today? _"Your father's gonna love that one," Jenna laughed.

"I couldn't resist," Arista said, grinning impishly. Then she turned to the last item she had yet to unpack, a large wicker basket. Jenna smiled and went down the stairs to tell the men that they were all done with the remodeling and could they please have  
something to eat? Severus obliged by making them all roast beef sandwiches and salad, that being the quickest thing he had on hand.

He tapped on Arista's door some ten minutes later. She opened it with a flourish. "Well? What do you think?"

He stepped into the room and looked about. "Very nice. You've got a good eye for furniture and placement." He took in the desk, the bookshelf, and the bed with the plush kitten sitting on it. _That almost looks real_. Then his eyes narrowed. "What is _that_?" he demanded sharply, pointing at the kitten, who was now licking her fur and  
purring.

"It's a cat."

"Obviously. But what is it doing _here_?"

"Umm . . .you did say I could get anything I wanted. And I've always wanted a cat." Arista pointed out.

_Damn! Next time you have to watch what you say_, he scolded himself. "I meant anything you wanted for your room, _not_ an animal," he clarified.

"She was free to a good home, and I just had to take her," Arista went and picked up the kitten, who was purring madly. "Look at her, Dad. Isn't she sweet?" She thrust the kitten out at him, and he caught the little ball of fluff reflexively.

The kitten stared up at him with huge green eyes. It was a grayish blue color and its  
fur was tinged with lavender. He stroked the little head and the kitten snuggled in the crook of his arm and began to purr loudly.

"This kitten has some fairy cat ancestry, you can tell by her fur," he remarked.

"I know. The girl who was giving her away said her mother was part lavender fairy cat, which means she'll have some small magical powers, like the ability to soothe and comfort with her purr , be invisible,and to walk through walls when she wants. Can I keep her, Dad? Please? I promise I'll take care of her myself. You won't have to do anything. Please?" she gave him a beseeching look.

The kitten purred louder, calming his irritated nerves. "I'll think about it."

"I've named her Comfrey."

"You gave her a _name_?" he groaned.

"Well, yeah. I mean, I couldn't just go around calling her "Kitty", that's lame. And Comfrey's a wonderful healing herb and it fits her, don't you think?"

"_I _think you should have asked me first." He stroked the kitten under the chin.

"You're right. I'm sorry. Can I keep her?"

"Arista!" he frowned at her. "I said, we'll see." He set the kitten back on the bed, where she curled up into a ball and fell asleep. "Now come down to dinner. We'll discuss this more tomorrow."

He turned to leave. "Teenagers! Give them an inch and they walk all over you," he grumbled under his breath. I_ ought to just say no and that's the end of it_. Then he heard Amelia's voice,_ Oh, let her keep the cat, Sev. You like it too, even if you won't admit it. _He shook his head. _You stay out of this!_ He ordered. _I'm not raising a spoiled  
brat here. _

Except he knew the girl was no spoiled brat, nor would he ever permit her to be one. He sighed. It would seem he now had a cat as well as a daughter. It could be worse, he reminded himself. She could have brought home a unicorn. Or a dragon.

The next morning he told her he would let her keep the kitten a week, as a trial period, to see how serious she was about assuming responsibility for her own pet.

"If I don't think you're capable of taking care of the cat properly, you're taking it back, am I clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"And don't ever go behind my back like that again, young lady. Is that understood?" He fixed her with his sternest glare.

"Yes, sir." She hung her head.

The kitten wound its little body about his legs, meowing. "Now feed your cat, Arista. The little scamp is starving." He knelt to scratch the kitten under the chin while Arista got the cat food. "Comfrey, huh?" was all he said. The little cat winked at him lazily.

Three days later Colin and Jenna returned to America. There was  
much hugging and tears at their departure, and Arista promised to write  
and they promised the same. "Come and visit sometime. Don't be a  
stranger!" Jenna invited.

"During the summer, we will," Severus agreed. "Next year."

By the end of the week the kitten was still in the house. "You know, your mother pulled the same stunt on me once," he said after dinner Friday night. He was sitting in his favorite chair by the fire with Comfrey curled up in his lap, kneading her little paws in and out.

Arista looked up from the book she'd been reading, sprawled on the sofa. "She brought home a cat too?"

"No, that time it was a dog. We rescued the big beast from some little delinquents who were tormenting it and trying to set it on fire. I only wanted to nurse it back to health, but she convinced me to keep the clumsy thing. I named him Maverick." His expression softened as he recalled the happy-go-lucky dog. "That dog caused more trouble than three two-year-olds. I can't count the things he broke, chewed, or  
ate. I wanted to get rid of him a dozen times over."

"But you never did."

"No. He was your mother's last gift to me. I really loved that dog, even when I wanted to strangle him. He chewed up Professor Dumbledore's griffin-hide boots once."

"He _didn't_!" Arista gasped.

"Stupid mutt. Cost me Fifty Galleons, even though Albus swore I didn't have to repay him. I _still_ haven't lived that one down."

"Did he die?"

"Last year. In his sleep. He was old, fourteen or thereabouts. I buried him up in the glen, the one your mother and I met in."

"Can we go there? I'd like to see it."

"Tomorrow. Provided you clean your room. It's a disgrace."

"Deal." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him gently rubbing Comfrey's belly. She grinned to herself. The kitten was a maniac for petting, she adored anyone who would stroke her, and would lie for hours on your lap like a ragdoll, purring endlessly. Best of all, the little cat's fur rarely shed and it smelled fresh and clean, with a faint  
lavender aroma. Nobody could resist Comfrey when she wanted attention, not even Severus Snape.

* * * * * *  
They hiked the last five miles up the trail, as he'd always done. Arista did it easily, scrambling up the switchbacks like a mountain goat. To his chagrin, he found he was more winded than usual when they finally reached the entrance to the glen. Too many hours behind a desk, he thought ruefully. He hitched his rucksack higher on his back  
and parted the gorse with a wave of his wand.

The glen was the same as it had been when he'd left it last year, save for the gentle mound of earth with the stone marker beneath the beech tree. That tree had been Maverick's favorite spot to lie down. On the marker were the words **Maverick: Loyal Companion and Faithful Friend, Sleep Well. **A small oval picture of the dog had been  
etched into the stone just above his name.

"It's beautiful." Arista's voice was low with awe. She gazed about at the quiet place with huge eyes. "It's so . . .peaceful and serene here. I've never felt anything quite like it."

"Neither have I. That's why I keep returning here." He indicated two large flat-topped boulders. "That was where I first saw your mother. She was sitting right there, on that boulder to the right."

Arista walked over to the boulder and touched it. Then she sat upon it. "Like this?"

"Yes, but her knees were tucked up a bit more. And we used to have picnics on the grass. Fireflash used to join us sometimes. I think we amused him greatly."

He walked over to Maverick's tombstone and laid his hand upon the white granite slab.

Arista slid off the rock and followed, reading the words on the marker silently. "What a beautiful memorial. I really like the picture of him. The artist was incredible."

"Thank you. I tried to make it as life-like as possible, since I never took any pictures of him."

She gaped at him. "_You _carved this? By yourself?"

He nodded. "That's the only way it would be done right. I used a spell to engrave the image and the words on the stone, but the original drawing is my own and so is the inscription." He chuckled at her expression. "Why so surprised, Arista? Did you think all I knew how to do was make potions?"

"Well, no, but . . .I didn't know you could do _this_."

"This wasn't as hard as your mother's locket."

"You made Mom's _locket_ too?"

"Yes, didn't I ever tell you that? It was a birthday present for her twenty-second birthday. I made it especially for her, there is no other in the world like it. Just like both its owners."

Arista examined the locket in wonder. "I always knew it was special, it protected me when I was growing up. But I never thought . . .I knew it was custom engraved and all, but not that you actually _made_ it. That's so awesome!"

"So was your mother." He sniffed once loudly, blinking away tears.

"So are you," his daughter said, and hugged him.

"Because I give you kittens and the key to my bank account?" he teased gently.

"Nope. Because you're my dad," she answered.

He hugged her so hard she gasped. "I love you, my Arista."

"Even if I just crashed your broomstick into a tree?"

"You _what_?"

"Only kidding." She burst out laughing at the expression on his face.

"Why, you incorrigible brat!"

"You should have seen your _face_!"

"Little minx! I ought to give you a good swat."

"Hey, I thought you loved me."

"Even when I want to beat you," he sighed. "And heaven help you if you ever _do_ crash my broomstick."

"How about my own? Does that count?" she inquired saucily, then ducked his gentle cuff.

"You crash anybody's broomstick and I'll ground you until you're sixteen. Does that answer your question, Miss Snape?" he pretended to glower at her.

"Uh-huh. Can I have one of those honey bars now? I'm starving."

"Spoken like a typical teenager." He opened his rucksack and pulled out three honey bars, some spring water, and two ham and cheese sandwiches.

They ate cross-legged on the grass, sitting and listening to the stream burbling and letting the peaceful aura of the glen fill their souls.

**A/N: Well, what did you think of Arista's new cat? Next up, school starts and Arista will meet friends and enemies as she attends Hogwarts as a fourth year.**


	18. School Days

**School Days**

**Sorry, the document upload clicked on the wrong story & I didn't notice it. Here's the correct chapter!**

﻿The cockatrice alarm went off right above her head, its infernally loud screech yanking  
her up out of a wonderful dream, a dream where the first day of school was still a month away.

Groaning, Arista sat up and whacked the stupid thing over the head until it quit screaming.

Then she glanced blearily at the clock on her nightstand. 6:35. She shoved her head back under the pillow. Just as she was falling back asleep, there came a knock on her door. "Arista! Time to get up," her father called, sounding infernally wide awake.

"Ughnn . . .Ten more minutes, Dad!" she called, sticking half of her face out of the pillow.

"Fine, but you better be awake next time I come up here," he warned.

Arista mumbled something and promptly fell back to sleep. The ten minutes passed in a heartbeat. The next thing she knew, Professor Snape was shaking her shoulder and growling, "Arista! Get up, you've only got an hour to get dressed and eat breakfast before you have to be at Platform Nine and Three Quarters."

His daughter opened one eye and said sleepily, "Why can't I just skip school today? I'm too tired."

"That's your own fault. No one told you to stay up till two in the morning reading under the covers," Snape pointed out mercilessly.

She opened her other eye. "How'd you know?"

"I'm your father. I know everything. Now let's go."

"Do I have to? My head hurts. I think I'm coming down with something."

"Oh, stop being so dramatic," he ordered crossly.

She buried her face in the pillow again.

Incensed by her stubbornness, he gave her a swat on the bottom. "_Up,_ young lady!"

"Okay! Okay!" she cried, sitting up and scowling at him. "I'm awake. Happy now?"

"Mind your attitude, miss," he snapped. "You've got ten minutes." He left the room.

Arista made a face at the door. She contemplated her warm bed again. Then she contemplated her father's temper. It wasn't worth it getting him in a bad mood. Unable to avoid the inevitable, she crawled out of her bed and began to dress in the clothes she'd laid out the night before. A dark blue skirt and a matching top, over which went her school robes, black with the blue Ravenclaw crest.

A week ago, she'd gone back to Hogwarts and been Sorted into Ravenclaw, she'd be going as a fourth-year even though she wasn't quite fourteen yet. Dumbledore had given his permission, since she'd passed all the fourth-year entrance exams with flying colors.

She ran a brush quickly through her short auburn locks, taming them down somewhat. Then she stood for a moment, examining herself in the mirror. Was she too pale? Did her eyes look too big? They were so dark, they dominated her face. Why oh why did she have to wear these stupid robes? They made her look like a nun going to convent school. She wished heartily she were back in America, who didn't have dumb things like apprentice wizard dress codes.

"ARISTA EILEEN SNAPE! If I have to call you one more time—!"

"_Coming_!" she yelled down the stairs. "Don't have a canary, Dad!"

She glanced one last time in the mirror, then grabbed her school satchel and her wand and said to Comfrey, "C'mon, furball. We'd better get down there before he bursts a blood vessel." She hurried down the stairs, nearly tripping over her blasted robes.

"What is the_ matter_ with you this morning?" Severus asked, giving her a warning scowl before dishing up a plate of blueberry pancakes and bacon. "Sit. Eat. You're going to be late unless you hurry."

"You want me to choke?" she muttered, chewing and swallowing as quickly as she could.

"Never mind. But why you chose today of all days to dawdle is beyond me," he said, eating his own breakfast at top speed.

"Do I really have to go? Can't I just stay home and you can tutor me?"

He stared at her in astonishment. "What kind of a question is that? You'll go to school just like everyone else. Professor's daughter or not, you don't rate special treatment. This isn't like you, Arista. Surely you can't be afraid of going to Hogwarts? You're months ahead of most of your classmates, and you already know most of the  
teachers."

"It's not that. I know I'll ace my classes, wouldn't dare not to, being your daughter," she retorted. "I just don't want them all staring at me."

"Who? The other students?"

"Yeah. You know, because I'm like Harry Potter—The Boy Who Lived? Only I'm The Girl Who Healed. They're all gonna be talking about it—that I healed the Longbottoms, and whispering behind their hands and stuff. I hate it when people stare at me," she said miserably.

"Then you just stare right back at them. Like this," Snape said, and demonstrated one of his famous glares.

"Dad! I want them to _like_ me, not be scared out of their wits."

"You're worried that they won't like you?" he repeated incredulously. "Arista Snape, what's not to like? You're pretty, you're smart, and you're _my _daughter." He smiled at her encouragingly. "You'll be fine. After you faced down Nightshade, you're not going  
to let a bunch of silly teenage wizards scare you, right?"

"I . . .guess not," she gave him a wan smile. The truth was, she was more nervous now than she had been going to confront the dark sorceress. Then, she'd only risked death. Now she risked four years of petty slights and humiliation if she didn't fit in. She wasn't sure which was worse.

And being the daughter of a professor wasn't going to help things any, though of course she would never say that to her father. She knew some kids would hate her just for that alone, assuming that the other teachers favored her because she was Snape's daughter, even when she earned her own way and always had. And some kids would try to be her friend just because they thought she could help them get in good with her father. She didn't even want to think about how the rest of them would react, knowing she was already famous for healing two people who had been labeled incurably insane.

_Maybe when the train comes, I should just throw myself in front of it. _Then she shook her head._ No, I can't do that to him_. _That's a coward's way out, and one thing I'm not is a coward. _Comfrey jumped up on her lap, purring fit to burst. Arista stroked the soft cat, allowing the animal's aura to calm her frazzled nerves. At least she would have Comfrey with her to hold and talk to if things got bad. That was something, at least.

She reached up to touch her locket, which was, as always, warm to the touch and radiated a soothing wave of love. _My locket and my cat. Guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be. _She pushed her plate away.

"Ready?" Severus asked, waving the dishes into the sink, where they began to wash themselves. He rose and came over to stand in front of Arista. "Here, let me look at you." He eyed her critically for a moment, dabbing her face with a napkin and straightening her robes.

"Perfect. You look beautiful."

She flushed. "Well, sure, _you're_ gonna say that."

"Hey. I don't say things I don't mean."

"So if I was ugly, you'd tell me?"

"But you aren't. Now stop worrying, you're going to give yourself an ulcer. Remember, if you have a problem with your schedule, see your Head of House. That's Professor Flitwick. If he can't resolve it, come see me, you know where my office is. I'll send  
Nightfall off with a letter to Remus Lupin telling him you've finished the improved Wolfsbane Potion, and he can try it if he wants."

"It's still experimental," she cautioned.

"I know, but he may want to try it anyway. That'll be up to him." He brushed a speck of dust off of his robes. "You have a pretty heavy course load this term, but I don't think there's anything you can't handle. You'll have my class second period, I believe, so be prepared! I'm going to be doing antidotes this term, and I expect you to be the top  
of my class, Miss Snape."

"I will, sir. Wouldn't want to embarrass you or anything," she said.

"Come on, put Comfrey in her carrier and let's get moving. We don't want to miss your train."

"Heaven forbid," he heard her mutter, before she opened the cat carrier and put a sleepy Comfrey inside.

* * * * * *  
The train ride was not as interminable as she'd feared, she slept for half of the way with Comfrey cuddled on her lap, she had a compartment to herself for some reason. She was woken up by the friendly witch who manned the trolley of candy, snacks, and drinks, asking if she would like anything.

She bought three Chocolate Frogs, they were her favorite, and a bottle of butterbeer. She also asked for a cup of water for her cat.

"Such a beauty, she is!" praised the trolley witch, putting out a hand to touch Comfrey's silky fur.

Comfrey immediately rubbed up against the witch's hand, vibrating with purrs. "Oh! Such a sweet kitty! Part fairy cat, is she?"

"Yes, ma'am. She loves people."

"And no wonder, she's a friendly little thing." The witch continued petting the cat for a moment, then drew away and said, "Well, I'd best be getting on, else I'll have a riot. Have a good year, dearie!"

Arista picked up Comfrey and snuggled the cat up to her chin. "Thanks, kitten. You're a good icebreaker, you know that?"

Comfrey winked. Then she settled down next to Arista and began to groom her fur. Arista took out her book on healing antidotes and began to study it. Might as well get a head start, she thought, because she would have to be on her toes in her father's class. His warning hadn't been mere talk, she knew it meant he was going to push  
her hard, harder than most of his students, and she meant to be equal  
to the challenge.

By the time the train came to a halt, she had read half the text and was feeling marginally less nervous about the coming year. At least she knew her way around the school, and she had one friend in Neville Longbottom, who practically worshipped her after she had healed his parents. She put Comfrey inside the carrier and tucked it under one arm and her school bag over her shoulder. As she stepped off the train and onto the platform, there came an ominous rumble of thunder. Oh, great! Just what I need, a thunderstorm.

She saw Hagrid at the end of the platform, calling, "All firs' years, line up over here!" Traditionally, the first year students were rowed across the lake by Hagrid.

"Hey, Arista!" he boomed as he caught sigh of her. "How was th' rest of yer summer?"

She waved back at him, coming over to stand next to him. "It was great. How about you?"

"Ah, it was good. You've got my Care of Magical Creatures class this term, righ'?"

"Right after my dad's," she said, having already memorized her schedule.

"Good! Good! I think you'll have fun in it. Though I don't think you'll have t'rescue any more mermaids!" he winked at her, and she grinned back at him. "You best get goin', it's goin' t' storm any minute now."

"See you!" Arista turned to walk back through the knot of first years towards the older students.

As she did so, she could hear the rumor mill start up behind her.

"Who's _that_? I've never seen her before."

"Transfer student from America, I believe."

"That's not what _I_ heard. I heard she's Professor Snape's _daughter_!"

"Seriously? Snape's got a kid? No _way_!"

"And she's the one who healed Neville Longbottom's parents over the summer. I read about it in _Witch Weekly_ and the _Daily Prophet_."

"That's the Girl Who Healed . . .you know, Arista Snape."

"I heard her parents were divorced or something, that's why she was raised in America . . ."

Arista rolled her eyes. _Here they go with the divorce thing again. Poor Dad. Next thing they'll start saying he abused his wife or something. _  
"I heard her mother died . . .killed by a dark witch or something . . ."

Arista forced herself to ignore them, continuing to walk toward the waiting horseless carriages that took the older students to the school. She passed a knot of third year boys, they also were whispering her name.

"I feel sorry for her . . .what with Snape for a father . . .can you _imagine_?"

_Why how dare they?_ she thought furiously._ How dare those little creeps say such a thing? Feel sorry for me because I'm Professor Snape's daughter! He's worth ten of THEIR fathers any day of the week! _  
One of the other third year boys laughed. "Yeah, he probably keeps her locked in his dungeon . . .making potions or whatever . . .maybe that's why her mother took her to America?"

Suddenly Arista had heard enough. Her temper flared and before she stopped to think, she had whirled and stormed over to the group of snickering third-years, who wore Gryffindor and Hufflepuff badges.

"If you have something to say to me, why don't you just say it to my _face_?" she snarled, glaring at the boy. "Or are you only brave enough to talk behind my back?"

"N-No!" stammered the boy. "Sorry."

"You should be!" she snapped, then spun on her heel and walked away, before she did something unforgivable, like pushed him into the lake. _The nerve, speaking that way about my dad! _Behind her, she heard the boy she'd yelled at whisper, "God, she's got as nasty a temper as her old man!"

_That's right, kid. I DO have a nasty temper, especially when somebody talks trash about my father, _she fumed. She clutched her locket in her fist, breathing hard, trying to regain control of her temper.

She was concentrating so hard that she bumped into a tall slender girl with curly black hair. "Oh! Sorry, I didn't mean . . ."

The other girl turned around. She was wearing Ravenclaw insignia too, and had sparkling blue eyes and a friendly grin. "That's okay. I trip over someone or something at least three times a day. You're new here, right? I'm Melinda. Melinda Seton, but everybody calls me Mel." She stuck out her hand.

Arista shook it gratefully. "Arista Snape. Pleased to meet you."

"Professor's daughter, huh?" she said knowingly.

"That's right. He's my father," Arista said proudly.

"That's cool. I'm related to staff too, Professor Sprout's my aunt, on my mother's side." Mel told her. "Not that it makes a difference when it comes to grades or anything. Everyone always thinks having a teacher as your relative means you get away with murder, but they're way off the mark with that one!"

"Tell me about it!" Arista said feelingly. "If I ever got in trouble at school, my father would skin me alive! Or ground me for life or something."

"Ain't that the truth!" Mel laughed. "One time I missed a homework assignment and somehow my aunt found out . . .oh boy, was she spitting mad! She made me weed the garden for two days straight . . .to improve my memory, she said."

"Bet it worked."

"Yup. I never forgot another homework assignment. Or if I did . . .I made damn sure she never knew about it," the other girl confided in a whisper. She grinned at Arista. "Hey, is it true, what they wrote about you in the paper? Did you really heal the Longbottoms with some kind of impossible magic spell?"

Before Arista could answer, a tall willowy girl with upswept golden hair in expensive green and black robes shoved past them. She looked down her graceful nose at Melinda and sniffed. "Well, well. Looks like Staggering Melly's found a friend." She eyed Arista scornfully. "Looks like the Giant and the Dwarf if you ask me. Better watch out, if Melly steps on you, she could kill you. She tripped over Flitwick one day and nearly squashed him flat!"

Then she burst out laughing, joined by several other pretty girls who were watching. They walked away before Arista could say anything. "Who _was_ that snob?"

"Brittany Marsh. She's in Slytherin. Thinks she's queen bee 'round here," Mel grimaced. "Watch out for her. She's fifth year, plays Quidditch, she's their star Beater. She also likes to pick on anyone she thinks is beneath her, which is everybody, according to her. I don't think she'll give you too much of a hard time, though, seeing as you're Professor Snape's kid, and he's her Head of House."

"Why did she call you that awful name?"

"Oh, that. It's because I trip over my own feet." Mel admitted, blushing. "See, I grew three whole inches at the end of last term, and I still can't mange to make my feet do what they're supposed to. So I, uh, tend to fall a lot."

"Don't worry. You'll grow out of it soon." Arista predicted. "And when you do, I'll bet you'll be more graceful than _her_."

"Thanks. I guess you'd know, being a Healer. So, is it true?"

"About the Longbottoms? Yeah. I'll tell you more when we get in the carriage." Arista said, moving forward to grab one of the box- like contraptions. Thunder boomed overhead. In her carrier, Comfrey meowed. She hated thunderstorms.

They found themselves sharing the carriage with a plump blond-haired girl from Hufflepuff who introduced herself as Tricia Greenbough. Also inside was a skinny sandy-haired boy with gray eyes called Christopher Ambrosius, Kit for short. He wore a Gryffindor House badge.

All of them, it seemed, had run afoul of Brittany Marsh.

"I _hate_ that conceited snake!" Tricia said angrily. "She calls me Bessie, like I was a cow! She's more stuck-up than a fence post."

"I don't like her much either," put in Kit. "She calls me Merlin's Mistake, 'cause I'm hopeless at Transfiguration spells. And my family is descended from Merlin Ambrosius."

"_The_ Merlin? As in King Arthur's great wizard?" Arista clarified.

"Yeah, that's the one," Kit said, blushing. "Sometimes I wish it was someone else. Having a famous ancestor, especially that one, is a royal pain. Everyone expects you to be this brilliant wizard, and here I am . . .the family joke. I can barely turn a pocket watch into a water clock."

Then Tricia asked, "Hey, weren't you in the paper or something over the summer, Arista? They were calling you—"

"The Girl Who Healed," Arista finished. "Because I cured Neville Longbottom's parents."

"Cured them of insanity, right?" Mel confirmed "How did you do that?"

"I, uh, learned some Healing techniques in America and I tried them out and they worked." Arista improvised hastily. She didn't want to advertise the fact that she was empath, that was the last thing she needed, for people to find out she could sense emotions and project her own. She'd be labeled a freak forever.

"Now that's absolutely amazing." Kit whistled. "See, now _you_ should have been born an Ambrosius."

Arista blushed. "I've always been able to Heal, so it's kind of instinctive. Neville told me about his parents and I figured I could try and help them, so I did. It wasn't anything anyone else wouldn't have done."

"You mean anyone else _could_ have done," Tricia corrected. "They were in there for years and years because no doctor could figure out a cure. Until you came along."

Arista decided to shift the topic of conversation away from her incredible act of Healing, and introduced them to Comfrey. The cat was a big hit, everyone wanted to pet and hold her. Comfrey ate up the attention.

Just then, the carriages reached the castle, and they all got out and entered the Great Hall. The first years were all lined up, waiting to be Sorted into their Houses. Arista glanced over to the far end of the Hall, where the staff table was. She saw her father seated next to Professor Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher.

She quickly followed Mel to the Ravenclaw table and they sat down. Mel introduced her to several other students, they all greeted her politely. Everyone was focused on the Sorting ceremony, so Arista was able to relax and not have to answer any more awkward questions.

She made a mental note to speak to Neville as soon as she could, to tell him not to say anything about her empathic gift.

Mel nudged her and whispered, "Was your dad upset that you got Sorted into Ravenclaw and not Slytherin?"

"No, he was okay about it. He said if the Hat said I was a Ravenclaw, then that was where I belonged. He also said that no matter what House I was in, I was still his daughter. In a way, I'm glad I'm not in his House, then he won't be hovering over me so much. And that snot Brittany Marsh is there, and if I had to share a room with her, there'd be problems. Like me shoving her bed out the window with her still in  
it."

Mel put her hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles. "Ooo boy, would I love to see that! But your dad would probably have a fit if that ever happened."

"Damn straight he would. And that's why I'm glad I'm not a Slytherin."

"You've got him for Potions, though."

"Uh-huh. And that means he's going to be on my back every lesson, probably. He expects me to be the top of my class. He's a perfectionist, you know."

"So are most fathers," Mel said sympathetically. "You'll probably be neck and neck with Hermione Granger. She's in Gryffindor, and one of the smartest kids here."

"I don't mind the competition, it'll help me keep my edge. And I'll make damn sure I outperform that Marsh Maid."

Mel grinned at the nickname. "The Marsh Maid. I like that. I'll have to remember that. Sounds like she ought to be scrubbing toilets or something. In any case, beating her in class won't be a problem. She only squeaks by academically. Her real strengths are Quidditch and her popularity with the Galleon and Wand set—you know, the  
pretty rich girls."

_Of which I'll never be, thank God_! Arista thought, giving her locket a squeeze. _Half the girls in Slytherin are pure-blooded bigots. I wonder how my father can stand them, seeing as he's a half-blood himself? Maybe he just pretends not to hear them, or see them, or whatever. Although, by their standards, I'd be a pure-blood, since both my parents were wizards. Unless they won't count my mom as good enough because she's an American. As if I cared what they thought anyway. _  
She turned about to watch the final students being Sorted, and her eyes met those of Professor Snape. He gave her a crooked smile, one that she knew no one else saw, that was just for her. She nodded and winked back, reassuring him that she was all right.

Severus caught the wink and breathed a sigh of relief._ At least she's found a friend already. Thank God she won't be like me, a social outcast for most of my school days. And she was worried that she wouldn't fit in! _Then he turned his attention back to Sorting Ceremony, mentally reviewing the new students in his House.

Then Dumbledore stood up for the annual beginning of the year address, and everyone hushed and looked at him. The students listened in disbelief as he told them of this year's new surprise—the Triwizard Tournament. They would be competing with students from other wizarding academies, namely Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. There would be a champion chosen from each of the three schools by the Goblet of Fire, and those three would compete in the Tournament. But you had to be seventeen or older to enter, so that let Arista off the hook.

The students eagerly discussed the Tournament, it was reputed to be extremely dangerous, apparently some competitors had died during it several years ago. But that was only to be expected, magic was a dangerous field, as Arista knew perfectly well. She also watched Dumbledore introduce the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Alastor Moody, also known as Mad-eye. He had one eye and one leg from being injured in battles with dark wizards. He had come out of retirement to teach the class as a personal favor to Dumbledore.

Arista eyed him thoughtfully, wondering how he would measure up to Colin and Jenna, who had been fantastic teachers in that subject. Or her father, who had also taught her some new defensive and offensive spells as well. From what Mel had told her, they hadn't had very good teachers in that subject two years ago.

"The only decent one we've had so far was Professor Lupin, and he had to resign because people found out he was a werewolf."

"I've met him," Arista said. "He's a really nice guy. And maybe someday he won't have to worry about his werewolf curse any more."

Mel quirked an eyebrow. "Come again? You can't cure lycanthropy."

"Not yet. But I'm working on it," Arista confided. "This past summer, I've been experimenting with extending the life of the Wolfsbane Potion, and if it works, maybe someday we can cure werewolves."

"Not too ambitious are you, Snape?" Mel whistled.

"Well, _somebody _should help them," Arista said. "I mean, how would you feel if you had to become a ravenous beast every month?"

"Horrible. Well, I wish you luck. And if they don't hurry up with the food, I'm going to become a ravenous beast all by myself," Mel stated. "I skipped breakfast this morning, I woke up late."

"Me too. But I still ate something, my dad made blueberry pancakes and they're my favorite."

Mel looked shocked. "Your dad cooks? Mine wouldn't come near a stove if you paid him."

Arista laughed. "Mine cooks all the time. He's really good too. I eat better here than I ever did when I lived with the Flynns." She explained to Mel about her guardians and the reason why she'd grown up in America.

At last the food arrived, and they quickly filled their plates and began eating. Arista released Comfrey from her carrier and fed the cat bits of roast lamb and chicken under the table. _Maybe this year won't be so bad after all_, she thought as she ate another slice of ham glazed with brown sugar.

* * * * * *  
She thought differently two weeks later, though not due to any difficulties with schoolwork. She'd always been an ace at academics, and her classes were not all that difficult, even Snape's Potions. She had that with the Hufflepuffs as well as the students from her own House, and none of them could match her knowledge or expertise when it came to mixing antidotes, which were a Healer's specialty. Her  
father was careful to treat her no differently then he did his other students, though he did always ask her questions that most of the others wouldn't know the answers to, to test her memory. She won more points for Ravenclaw than any other student in her House those first weeks.

Her name became a byword in her House for information, as the other students often sought her help with homework. "If you don't know the answer, just ask Snape," was a common phrase in Ravenclaw. Arista got so tired of answering questions that she and Mel made a signboard and posted it in the common room. It was titled_ "Ask Arista, and She'll Get Back to You"_. On it students posted questions and she did her best to answer them.

"Maybe I should start a study group," she said one afternoon, when she'd answered twenty notes in addition to doing her homework in four subjects. She also met with Madam Pomfrey for extra credit tutoring in medicine.

"You crazy? You already do enough around here, Arista. You're gonna burn out if you don't quit reading and studying." Mel predicted.

"I like reading. It's fun."

Mel rolled her eyes. "You're nuts, Snape."

"Takes one to know one, huh, Seton?"

"Yeah, we're both lunatics. Did you finish that essay Moody assigned us yet?"

"Got it right here," she held up a piece of parchment.

Mel examined it. "God, what'd you write, a book? Mine is only half that length."

"I grew up with Dark Hunters, remember? So I know a lot about curses and stuff." Arista explained. Their assignment had been to list and explain different kinds of curses and how to counter them.

"You know a lot about everything."

"Not everything, Mel. I don't know much about Quidditch. Or how anyone can stand to be around Brittany Marsh without wanting to put their fist through her perfect teeth."

"Wondered that myself. Guess you have to be part of her fan club to know," Mel snorted.

"Ugh! I'd sooner make friends with Hagrid's Blast Ended Skrewts. At least if they bite you it's because they're hungry and not being a malicious backstabber."

"Malicious. Now there's a good word to describe her. The Malicious Marsh Maid. I'd better write that down too," Mel got out a scrap of parchment and scribbled on it.

"What are you doing, keeping a list of all the names we make up?" Arista asked.

"Yeah, and one day I'm gonna tell her off and use all of 'em." Mel said. "When she's not got half the Slytherin team around her or her stupid pack of Brittany-Wanna-Be's."

"Can't wait to see it."

"See it? You aren't going to be seeing it, you're going to be _saying_ it. I'll need help to remember it all," Mel said with a mischievous smirk.

"Why don't you use a mnemonic?" Arista suggested. "That's how I tutored Neville and helped him remember potion ingredients."

"Good idea," Mel said, and began to write again.

"Shouldn't you be doing your Divination homework?"

"Stuff it, Professor. This is more educational. Maybe I'll write a book someday. How to Insult A Person in Twenty Words or Less by Melinda Seton."

"It can go right next to my book, Antidotes and Anodynes: A Healer's Compendium by Arista Eileen Snape."

"Where do you come up with these things?"

"My head. Why?"

"Because I couldn't make up a title like that if I tried."

"Is it terrible?"

"Terrible? It's bloody brilliant!" Mel said. "And what's more, you'll probably really write it too."

"When I graduate. I don't have time now." Arista smiled, then took out her Transfiguration homework.

A day later, she was walking across the grounds near the Quidditch pitch when she heard a familiar voice say, "Now, Ducky, you ought of learned more respect for your betters by now. You're a disgrace to your House, you know that?"

Gales of laughter followed this statement, mainly the high pitched giggles of girls, but there were some boys mixed in as well. Arista felt her throat tighten. _Oh no. Brittany's found a new victim to torment. Why can't she just leave people ALONE?_ Arista looked over at the grassy knoll that separated the Quidditch pitch from the rest of the grounds. Sure enough, there was knot of students standing around, watching Brittany taunt her latest victim.

Arista stiffened. Though she was careful to maintain her shields, she could occasionally feel a person's emotions through them, if that person were projecting very strongly. She could feel the boy's pain and despair coupled with humiliation like a stream of cold water dashed in her face.

It was something she could not ignore.

She had gone out of her way to avoid Brittany and her gang of bullies, not because she feared them, but because she feared she would lose her temper and get into a fight with them. Fighting would earn her a detention if any teachers found out, and a detention would bring the wrath of Professor Snape down on her head.

But this—this was too much.

She stalked over to where the other kids were watching avidly as Brittany gleefully hexed a boy around Arista's age, small with dark hair and eyes that blazed impotent hatred at the girl, for she had put a Butterfingers hex on him and he kept dropping his wand.

Then one of the Slytherin team who was watching decided to join in the fun, and tripped the boy, sending him sprawling on the ground.

The others roared with laughter. To her astonishment, as the boy tried to get to his feet, she saw a coiled serpent on his robes.

They were tormenting one of their own House. Apparently, nothing was sacred to Brittany Marsh and company.

"Aww. Poor Ducky fell down," Brittany cried. "His feet are as clumsy as his tongue."

The boy glared at her angrily and pointed his wand, but he stuttered so badly that whatever hex he tried to cast didn't work. The others watching, mainly Brittany's group of Slytherin girls and boys, plus a few others from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, all burst  
out laughing at the boy's mangled curse.

"_This_ is the way it's done, Ducky. Pay attention now!" Brittany ordered. "_Expelliarmus_!"  
The boy was knocked off his feet by the power of her disarming charm, and his wand flew out of his hand, landing some three feet away.

_Isn't anyone going to **do **anything?_ Arista wondered angrily. _Are they all just going to stand around and **watch**? _Apparently so. The boy tried to scramble to his feet and grab his wand, but one of the other Slytherin boys kicked it out of the way. It rolled to a stop by Brittany's foot. She picked it up with a nasty smirk that reminded Arista eerily of Nightshade. "Want your wand back, Ducky?" she chuckled. "Then ask me. Say please give me my wand, Miss Marsh. P-p-pretty p-p-please!"

The others howled at her mocking imitation of the boy's speech.

The dark-haired kid went bright red and shut his lips tightly, glaring up at his tormentor.

"Say it, Ducky! Pretty please, Miss Marsh!"

Several of the boys were doubled over, convulsed with laughter at Brittany's wit.

Arista had had enough. "Who the hell does she think she is? The Queen of the Universe?" she growled and began to push her way through the knot of students. If no one else was going to put a stop to this, then she would. Two years as a Dark Hunter's apprentice had instilled in her a code of honor and justice that was second to none, and she could not simply stand by and watch the poor kid being tormented  
and not do something.

"Knock it off why don't you, Marsh?" Arista snapped, stepping forward out of the circle of onlookers.

Brittany turned to eye Arista coldly. "This is none of your business, Snape. Why don't y'all move along now, Yank?" she drawled in a terrible imitation of a Southern lady.

Two or three girls began to snicker.

"I'm making it my business," Arista declared, moving to stand directly in front of the bigger girl.

"Is she insane?"

"She's gonna get _pulverized_."

"Don't she know who Marsh is? The star Beater of the Slytherin team."

"Marsh wouldn't dare hurt her . . .that's the professor's daughter."

"It won't matter who her daddy is, not when Marsh just got her afternoon entertainment interrupted."

Arista heard all of the whispers from behind her and smiled thinly. "Leave him alone, Brittany."

"Or what? You gonna run and tell your daddy on me?"

"I don't need him to handle the likes of_ you_, Marsh Maid," Arista sneered.

Brittany went red. "_What _did you call me?"

"You heard me." A sudden inspiration hit, and she chanted loudly:

"_All hail Brittany Marsh, Queen of the Fen!  
Slithering snakes and scorpions are her friends,  
Relative to a rat, sister to a salamander,  
They all worship her.  
So bow your heads one and all,  
To Her Most Graceless Majesty—the Hag of Slytherin Hall!"_

There was dead silence.

Then Brittany screamed, "You're dead meat, Snape!" and charged at her.

But Arista was waiting for that and she slipped away from the other girl's rush. She pivoted on her left leg, bringing her right foot up in a classic strike position.

Brittany wheeled, fist lifted, and Arista leapt, quick as a dragon in flight, her foot slamming into the older girl's chest and knocking her down.

"How do you like that, Marsh Maid? It's called Flight of the Dragon."

Brittany was already climbing to her feet, mad as ten giants.

"Pound the Ravenclaw chick, Brit!" one of the Slytherin girls yelled.

Arista balanced on the balls of her feet, trying to recall all of the lessons Colin had pounded into her. She lifted her hands, ready to block the other girl's punches._ Hands, get those hands up! _she could hear Colin bellowing in her head.

Brittany swung a hard right, and Arista blocked it, catching it on her palm and deflecting it off to one side. Another punch, and this one was deflected too, knocked harmlessly wide. Then Arista stepped back, giving herself some space to throw a  
punch of her own.

Only she forgot that Brittany's friends were behind her, and they didn't believe in fighting fairly. One of the girls grabbed the back of her collar, twisting it so she was nearly strangled. She reached instinctively for her throat, leaving herself open to Brittany's return punch.

It hit her square in the eye. Pain exploded in the side of her face, and she felt something wet trickling down her cheek. She couldn't see out of her left eye, for the blood dripping into it. Desperate for air, she choked, trying to throw off the hands clinging to her collar.

A fist slammed her in the stomach and she was helpless to retaliate. She crumpled, and the hands holding her collar let her go.

"Stop, Brit. You don't want to damage her permanently," said a boy's voice."Remember who she is."

"Oh, I'll remember, all right. She's a stupid Ravenclaw chick who got her behind whipped by a Slytherin." Brittany said, a satisfied smirk on her face. The others laughed uproariously. "Go home, Yank, with all the other rejects we shipped to America."

Arista was hurting too badly to form a coherent reply, but her quick mind thought up one. _At least my home isn't a swamp like yours, Marsh. And you'd of never beat me if one of your friends hadn't cheated and strangled me_.

She heard them depart and only then did she raise her head from her hands, which were sticky with blood. She was alone, or so she thought until the Slytherin boy they'd been tormenting came to kneel in front of her.

"Y-you'd b-better get to the Hospital Wing," he told her. "Y-you've got a c-cut over your eye that's bleeding r-real bad."

"Yeah, I know. Got a handkerchief or something?"

"H-here." He pressed a faded scrap of blue cloth into her hand.

She pressed it firmly to her eye, wincing slightly. "It's not bad. Cuts on your face always bleed worse than ten hells." _And hurt worse than ten hells. I wish I could use my healing talent on myself._ But that was the one drawback to her power. She could use it on others, but not herself.

"They always pick on you like that?"

"Nearly every day," he said slowly. "They think it's f-funny, b- because I stutter when I'm nervous."

"Stupid imbeciles!" Arista snarled. "What's your name?"

"Drake Lockwood. Thanks for trying to h-help me."

"You're welcome. Too bad it wasn't much help."

"It w-would have been, if Miranda P-Parker hadn't grabbed you that way." Drake pointed out. He held out a hand, and she accepted it. "That was great, the way you knocked Marsh down. And that p-poem was wicked too." He grinned shyly at her.

"I work best under pressure." She grimaced, for the front of her robes were covered in blood. "I'd better go change before some teacher sees me like this."

"Right. I have t-to go to class now. Herbology."

"See you around, Drake," she waved at him as he turned to go. He smiled back, then was gone, running down the path to the greenhouse.

_That's one more I owe Brittany Marsh_, Arista thought wearily, wishing her eye didn't hurt so much. She removed the handkerchief Drake had given her, the bleeding had almost stopped. Now all she had to do was make her way back to her dormitory and change her robes before anyone else saw her. _Sure wish I had an Invisibility Cloak  
or something like that. _Luckily, most of the students were in class by now, and so were the teachers. She peered at her watch. She had about twenty minutes before she had to get to her Transfiguration lesson. Plenty of time to change and clean up her face.

She kept her head down as she made her way back towards the castle. Bits of her impromptu poem ran through her head and she smiled to herself. She had to tell Mel that one, the tall girl would get a real laugh out of it.

She managed to make it inside the castle unseen. But there her luck ran out. For as she started to climb the stairs to Ravenclaw Tower, squinting to see out of her good eye, who should she see but Professor Snape, returning from delivering a Stargazing Potion to Professor Sinistra.

"Arista? Why aren't you in class?" he asked, then he caught sight of the blood on her robes. "My God, what happened to you? You're all over blood!" He grabbed her shoulder, halting her escape.

"It's nothing."

"The hell it isn't. Look at me."

She slowly lifted her head. "It's just a little cut, Dad."

"What happened?" he repeated, taking the handkerchief from her eye and tilting her head up.

"I ran into a door."

"A door attached to somebody's fist. Who hit you? I want names." His voice was a low rasp of fury.

She made as if to pull her head away, but he held her chin firmly. "I can handle it myself. I may be the teacher's kid, but I'm no snitch. I was stupid, I didn't watch my back, but I'll get the idiot back someday."

"That eye needs ice and some salve. Come with me," he ordered. "You can think about your revenge while I see to your face. Was it a girl or a boy?"

She sighed. "It was a girl, of course. No boy would hit a girl unless he was a coward. But that's all I'm going to tell you."

He helped her down the stairs and into the dungeons. His classroom was empty, as it was between periods. He was seething, but he managed to rein in his temper. _If I ever find out who is responsible . . .I'll give them a detention like no other. And whoever it is better pray they aren't in my House . . ._Severus thought darkly.

Arista allowed herself to be led into Snape's office, where he pressed her into his chair. He moved about her, gathering a jar of salve from a cabinet, a basin and a clean cloth from a drawer. He poured water from a pitcher on his desk into the basin.

"Look up," he said, beginning to wash her face with the wet cloth.

"Dad, I've got Transfiguration in fifteen minutes," she objected. "I'm gonna be late."

"Hold still. This once, I'll write you a pass." He gently sponged the blood from her eye, to his relief the cut on her eyebrow wasn't as bad as it looked. He uncapped the jar of antiseptic salve. "This is going to sting a bit, but don't move," He took her chin in one hand and dabbed the salve on.

She hissed, her eyes watering, but remained still. "Good girl. Almost done." He carefully outlined her eye with the salve, it would bring down the swelling that was sure to follow. "This arnica and calendula flower salve should prevent that eye from bruising too badly."

He snapped his fingers and an ice pack appeared on his desk. "Hold that on there, while I write you that note." Severus ordered, finding a spare piece of parchment on his desk and picking up a quill.

"I didn't know you knew how to do spells without a wand."

"I can do some. Your mother showed me how," Snape answered, scribbling rapidly. "There. Give this to Professor McGonagall."

"You didn't tell her about this, did you?" Arista cried in dismay.

"No. I said you were assisting me with something. Keep that ice on there for another five minutes, then you can go back to your room and change. And later tonight—"

"I know, I should put another ice pack on it and some more salve," she recited. "I can heal better than I can fight."

Snape scowled blackly. "If I ever find out who hurt you . . ."

"Dad, _please_! Let me handle it. I'm no crybaby, to come running to you for every little thing."

"Very well. I'll let you deal with it this time. But if something like this happens again . . ."

"It won't." Arista said determinedly._ I'm going to teach Marsh a lesson she'll never forget, that much I can promise you. _Severus gazed down at her, pride warring with protectiveness. _She's more like me than she knows. I always fought my battles alone too. Because I had to. But I don't want that for her. I won't interfere, this time. But next time, if there IS a next time, whoever did this is going to regret it, or my name's not Severus Snape. _

The Potions Master gave Arista the jar of salve and the ice pack to take with her. Arista thanked him and hurried back to her room to change, the note for McGonagall tucked in her pocket. This once, she was glad she was the professor's daughter, since now she didn't have to make up an excuse as to why she was late for class.

**A/N: So, any predictions about what's going to happen next???**


	19. Payback and Punishments

**Payback and Punishments**

﻿Even though Arista tried to keep it quiet, somehow the other Ravenclaws found out  
about her fight with Brittany. When she returned to the common room to do her homework before dinner, she found it abuzz with angry girls and boys.

Mel took one look at her eye, which had begun to turn an odd purplish color despite the arnica salve, and promptly swore a few blistering oaths in gutter Cockney that would have done a Cheapside sailor proud. "Oooh, what I wouldn't give to hang that mangy miserable marsh rat upside down and beat her with a broomstick." There were murmurs of agreement from nearly everyone.

"Why, Melinda Seton! Where did you learn such colorful language?" Arista asked, grinning.

"From my Nuncle Pete, dearie," Mel answered. "'e usta work th' shipyard, an' Oi picked it up from 'im. Jus' don' nivver let my mum know, she'd drop dead, that she would!" Then she winked and doubled over laughing.

Arista joined in, and so did most of the other girls. At length, they regained control over themselves. Roger Davies, who was the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain, walked over to her and said, "Let's see your war wound, Snape. Ah, it's a nice one, but I heard you kicked her right on her butt first."

"I did. The only reason I got this was because she cheated."

"Of course she did!" Roger said. "She's a Slytherin. They all cheat. It's the only way they can win."

"My father's not like that," Arista said loyally. "Or Drake Lockwood either."

"I meant everyone except him," Roger said hastily. "And Lockwood's all right. Pity he's surrounded by such colossal idiots."

"But what are you going to do about Marsh Face?" asked a first- year softly. "You're not gonna let her get away with this, are you?"

"No way. But I'll deal with her in my own time. Trust me," Arista stated.

"Is it true you made up a poem about her?" asked Linda MacKenzie, a third-year.

"Tell us!" urged Roger.

Arista recited the poem and had half the kids in stitches, and the other half cheering.

"I've got to write that down," Mel cried. "Anybody got a quill?"

Ten hands thrust quills at her.

Despite Arista's insistence that she would deal with Brittany in her own way, the Ravenclaws decided to exact their own brand of revenge on her behalf. The next Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin match was on Saturday. When the announcer introduced the Slytherin team, and Brittany Marsh flew out with her bat on her Nimbus 2001, the entire Ravenclaw section stood up and began singing at the top of their lungs, led by Mel:

_"All hail Brittany Marsh, Queen of the Fen!  
Slithering snakes and scorpions are her friends. . . ." _  
Brittany was so furious she nearly dropped her bat, and she narrowly missed being nailed by a Bludger, because she was too busy screaming at the Ravenclaws to shut up instead of paying attention to the game.

The song became so popular, it was known as the Ravenclaw fight song, immortalized forever in Hogwarts history, with various names being substituted for Marsh's over the years.

Unfortunately, potent as that humiliation was, it did not stop Brittany and her gang from persecuting other students, like Drake, Mel, Tricia, and Kit. Those four were not the only ones they targeted, but they got the lion's share of the abuse.

It made Arista even more furious at the stuck-up Slytherin girl, but she had no chance to even the score between her and Brittany until two weeks later. It was by pure chance that she happened to be down in the dungeons, stopping by to ask her father whether he had heard from Remus Lupin yet.

When she arrived at Snape's classroom, however, the door was locked and the professor was nowhere in sight. A group of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were gathered there, waiting for him to arrive for class. Among them were Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, and Hermione Granger. There was a friendly rivalry between Arista and Hermione,  
as the two competed for the top grades in their classes. At this time, Arista was slightly ahead of Hermione, or so Professor Sinistra had told her two days ago.

Even so, Hermione waved at her as she approached them. "Hey, Arista."

"What's up, Hermione?"

"We're uh, waiting for Professor Snape to get here. Any idea where he is?"

"Haven't got a clue," Arista shook her head no. "But he may be meeting with Ludo Bagman and Bartemius Crouch, they're running the Triwizard Tournament."

This sparked off a debate about the Triwizard Tournament, and who would be the Hogwarts Champion and what kinds of tasks might be set for the three representatives. While this was going on, the portrait hole to the Slytherin common room opened and Brittany stepped out of it, hastily shoving books into her schoolbag. She was clearly late for class.

Arista eyed her the way she would have a poisonous snake, with wariness and extreme dislike. Brittany hadn't noticed her yet, she was too concerned with getting past the knot of students in the corridor.

"Outta my way, maggot!" she snarled, shoving rudely at Neville, nearly knocking him down.

Neville shrank away from her. "Sorry, I didn't see you."

"Maybe you'd see better if you borrowed Potter's glasses, Longbottom," Brittany sneered, looking down her aristocratic nose at him. "Then again, maybe not. You're too dimwitted to see straight, so glasses wouldn't make any difference."

She laughed nastily at her own wit, then pushed past him. Only to be brought up short by Arista who walked deliberately in her path. "What's this? Who gave you permission to be down here, Ravenclaw chick?"

"Who says I need permission, Marsh? It's a free country." She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the taller girl.

"Only in America. Which is where I'm going to send you if you don't move outta my way." Brittany threatened.

"Pardon me, Your Majesty," Arista said, giving her a mock curtsy. "You know, we got rid of tyrants in America two centuries ago. Maybe it's time somebody did the same thing here." Her words were pure challenge.

Brittany exhaled slowly. Then she bared her teeth in a feral smile. "You just don't learn, do you, Snape? Must breed them dumb where you come from. Move, before I clock you one in your other eye."

Arista pretended to step back a bit, shifting her center of balance. Brittany gave her a supercilious look. Then Arista said sweetly, "I don't think so, Marsh. Where I come from, I don't take lessons from tyrants. I _give_ them!"

She drew back her right fist in a movement almost too quick to follow. Before Brittany could even register the fact that Arista was actually attacking her, the former Hunter's apprentice had thrown a punch with the whole weight of her one-hundred-and-ten pounds behind it, as well as two weeks worth of pent up anger.

Her fist connected with Brittany's perfect teeth and such was the power of her blow that the Slytherin girl was lifted off her feet and sent flying a good six feet down the corridor. "_That's_ for my eye and Lockwood's stutter. Next time watch your mouth, Marsh Maid."

The other students gaped at her. "Bloody hell, did you _see_ what she did?" muttered Dean Thomas.

"I didn't know a girl could hit like _that_," whistled Justin FinchFletchley.

Brittany was slowly sitting up, a dazed expression on her face. Her mouth was dripping blood. She lifted a hand to it. "My _tooth_! I think you knocked out my front tooth, you Yankee guttersnipe!" she whimpered.

"Well, maybe that'll improve yoah looks, since y'all are kin to a swamp rat anyhow," drawled Arista in her best down-home Texas accent.

Brittany started to get to her feet, murder in her eyes.

"I'd stay on the ground if I were you, Marsh," Arista warned, doubling up her fist again. "Unless you want to drink your meals through a straw."

"Why you little—!" Brittany began. She never finished her sentence.

"What on earth is going on here?" inquired a familiar voice. Everyone froze. It was McGonagall, coming to return a text she'd borrowed from Snape's office.

"Is there a problem here?" asked a soft deadly voice from the door of the Slytherin common room. Snape stood silhouetted in the doorway. Unknown to the students, he had seen Arista send Marsh flying down the corridor.

Brittany turned to him eagerly. "Professor, she attacked me for no reason! She knocked out my tooth!" She indicated Arista with her finger, a gloating look in her eyes. "Look at what she _did_!" She removed her hand from her mouth to show a neat gaping hole in her once-perfect smile.

_I am looking. That was as sweet a right hook as I've ever seen_, Snape thought admiringly._ Unfortunately, Minerva saw it too. Which means I'm going to have to punish both of them, even if Arista had good reason for hitting her_. He fixed both girls with his famous glower.

"Miss Snape and Miss Marsh! Hogwarts students do not brawl in the corridors like London fishwives!" McGonagall scolded. "This is totally unacceptable behavior, wouldn't you agree, Professor Snape?"

"Totally unacceptable," he repeated, making his tone cold as winter. He pinned Marsh with his stare and the girl immediately lost her smirk and looked uneasy. "Detention is in order, I believe. For both of you."

Brittany looked liked she'd been hit in the head with a Bludger. "Detention? _Me_? But, Professor, _she_ started it—"

"Did I stutter, Marsh?" Snape demanded. "Detention, tomorrow morning at 7 o'clock in my office."

"But, sir, that's Quidditch practice!"

"Is it? Too bad. You'll have to miss it, I'm afraid." Brittany opened her mouth to protest again, but he cut her off. "Complain again, Marsh, and I'll make it two Saturdays. Want to go for three?"

"No, sir." She turned away then, disbelief and hatred written all over her face.

"If I were you, Marsh, I'd let Madam Pomfrey look at your mouth," McGonagall said tartly, then walked up to Snape and handed him the volume she had borrowed. "Thank you for this, Severus. It was most useful. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have my own class to teach." She strode back up the corridor.

Brittany scurried after her, looking like a whipped puppy.

Arista felt like cheering for a minute, until she recalled that she too was in trouble. She caught Ron and Harry exchanging glances of mutual amazement.

Then Snape whirled on his disobedient daughter. "As for_ you_, Miss Snape, you can see me at 11 o'clock tomorrow morning." The look of disapproval he threw her made her flinch.

"Yes, sir," she murmured, not meeting his eyes. _Oh God, he's really furious. Am I in for it now. _Unlike Brittany, she knew better than to argue over punishments. That only made it worse. Better to take it and get it over with. She dared not ask him about Lupin now.

Snape turned, pointed his wand at his classroom door, and unlocked it. "What are all of you standing about like idiots for?" he barked. "Get inside and sit down." Then he stalked through the door.

The rest of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs began to file inside, not wanting to risk the Potions Master's temper. Only Ron and Harry lingered for a moment, casting Arista looks of mutual sympathy coupled with astonishment.

"I've never seen him give detention to one of his own House before," Harry said wonderingly.

"I have," Arista said. "Only that time it didn't involve me. I'm dead. He's gonna kill me."

"Aw, come on. Surely he won't punish you that badly," Ron said.

"You're kidding, right?" Arista laughed. "This is my father we're talking about. He's  
got standards higher than God. And they all apply to his daughter."

"Potter and Weasley!" Snape bellowed. "Do you need a personal invitation?"

The two boys jumped guiltily. "Gotta run. By the way, Arista, that was bloody brilliant, the way you made Marsh fly through the air." Ron said, then hurried inside.

"He's right. Where'd you learn to punch like that?"

"Two years of self-defense lessons with Colin Flynn, Dark Hunter combat master," Arista answered. "Better go, before he comes out here and drags you inside by your ear."

"Right. See you," Harry said, then ducked inside the dungeon.

"Ah, so Potter has finally decided to join us," she heard Snape say. "Do you think just because you're famous that gives you the right to ignore my instructions, Potter? Ten points from Gryffindor for your lateness and your attitude!"

Arista sighed and made her way out of the dungeons. Maybe confronting Brittany hadn't been such a good idea after all. Then she recalled the dumbfounded expression on the Slytherin girl's face after Arista had hit her. It had been priceless. Worth even a detention with her father._ I wonder what he's gonna do to me?_ Then she shrugged. _I'll worry about that tomorrow. Right now I want to savor this moment, the moment when that pig Brittany got what she deserved for once. From me and Dad too. She thinks he's gonna go easy on her, the dumb twit. But he won't. Not after she tried to weasel her way out of her punishment like a coward. He detests cowards. She'll find that out the hard way, and serves her right. _

That same morning, Mel and Arista were partners for their Potions lab, working on making the difficult Decongestion Draft. Arista, who'd had first-hand experience with taking the horrible potion as well as familiarity with the formula from the summer, wasn't all that worried about concocting it. She and Mel chatted amiably as they  
ground handfuls of aconite in their mortars and mixed it with essence of lavender, nettles, and shredded willow bark. There were about a dozen ingredients in this potion, and each of them had to be added at just the right time.

"I wonder if there are any hot boys in that Durmstrang school?" Mel speculated, adding the willow bark to the cauldron first and giving it three clockwise stirs.

"Could be. And if there are, they're probably starved for some female companionship." Arista said, measuring out two teaspoonfuls of cherry bark syrup.

"Think any of them will ask me out?" Mel asked in a whisper.

"I don't see why not. You're just as good as Marsh or any of her court princesses," Arista said. She glanced down at her recipe. It was time to add the nettles. She tipped them into the cauldron and stirred vigorously. The mixture bubbled slightly and turned green, giving off an acrid odor.

"Ugh! Is it supposed to smell like that?" Mel asked, wrinkling her nose.

"Yeah. And it doesn't smell half as bad now as it does when it's done, trust me." Arista said, shuddering slightly at the memory of how awful it had tasted. She returned quickly to discussing the possibilities of Mel dating one of the Durmstrang boys.

Snape walked around the room, inspecting everyone's potion thus far. Normally, Arista would have been alert to his approach and stopped talking to Mel before he got to their table, for she knew how he hated idle chatter in his class. Students should be focused on the lesson at hand, not what they were going to do later on. But that  
morning they were so engrossed in their discussion that they forgot to watch out for him.

Severus looked up from inspecting Marjorie Worth and Emma Barton's cauldron to see his daughter and her best friend with their heads together, giggling and whispering about something that was obviously not their Potions lab. His mouth tightened to a grim line.

"Miss_ Snape_!" Severus's voice cut like a whip. Arista jumped about a foot, then glanced around guiltily. "Would you like me to take twenty points from Ravenclaw for conducting meaningless chatter during my class?"

"No, sir." She could feel his arctic glare from three feet away.

"Then might I suggest you shut your mouth and finish your experiment?"

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." She quickly glanced down at her potions manual, her cheeks burning. She felt like kicking herself. She hadn't even served her detention yet and here she was making him even more angry at her.

He came over to examine their cauldron. "Passable, but only just. You need to grind that aconite finer, you're not making a milkshake here. You'd know that if you were reading and not giggling like a pair of geese," he said scathingly.

Both girls hung their heads, for they were not normally the recipients of scoldings from teachers for not paying attention. Mel immediately set to work regrinding the aconite.

Satisfied his reprimand had sunk in, Severus moved on to the next table.

Mel finished grinding the aconite to a fine powder, then scribbled a note in the margin of her assignment book and passed it to her friend.

_What's up with **him**? I've never seen him jump down your throat that way_.

Arista cast a quick look around, making sure her father wasn't looking in her direction.  
Then she wrote a reply on her own assignment book.

_He's in a snit 'cause I broke the First Commandment of a professor's daughter: **Thou shalt not get in trouble at school**. I punched out Brittany this morning._

Awesome! Why didn't you tell me before?

_You were busy studying for your Astronomy exam. I made the hag fly without a broom.  
Only problem was—he saw it. He gave me detention_.

Mel gaped at her. Then she added the aconite to the bubbling mixture. It turned a kind  
of deep green color, the way the manual said it should be. Then she picked up her quill again.

_That really sucks. No wonder he snapped at you like that_.

_But he gave **her** one too!_

Get out! Seriously?

_Yeah. And something tells me he'll probably nail her butt to the wall_.

_About time! What do you think he'll do to her?_

_No idea. But I hope it's something utterly humiliating. God only knows what he's going to do to me. _  
_You'll survive. I hope_.

_Gee, thanks. Real encouraging, Seton_.

_I try. Tell me **everything** later_.

Arista nodded, then added the teaspoons of cherry bark syrup to the potion. "Now what?"

"It says, let simmer for five minutes then add the extract of menthol," Mel consulted  
their text. "Nasty! I hope this thing works, because I'd hate to drink something that smells this bad for nothing."

"It does, but it leaves the most disgusting aftertaste in your mouth."

"_You've_ drank this stuff?" Mel looked like she was going to gag.

"This summer, after I rescued a mermaid, I nearly came down with pneumonia from  
being out in the rain too long. Dad brewed this up and made me drink it." Arista grimaced.

"Yuck! I'd of puked."

"I almost did. But the damn stuff works. One minute I was coughing my lungs up and  
the next I was sleeping like a baby. It knocked me right out. And when I woke up I was fine, not even a sniffle."

"I'd almost rather have pneumonia," Mel frowned down at the potion. "It looks like  
swamp water."

"Tastes worse. Pray you never have to drink it."

"Believe me I will," Mel said fervently. Then she smirked thoughtfully. "Any chance  
we could sneak some of this stuff over to the Slytherin table? I'd love to slip a good dollop into Brittany's pumpkin juice."

Arista's eyes lit up. "Nasty, Seton. I love it." She rummaged for a moment in her potions kit. "Ah ha. My mini flask." She quickly filled the flask up with the Decongestion  
Draft. Then she tucked it out of sight in her kit. Revenge was sweet.

"Time's up." Snape called, then he came around to inspect their final solutions,  
marking their results in his grade book. "Worth and Barton—C. You might be able to cure a sneeze, but that's all. I'd do better drinking chicken broth. Fletcher and Clifford—D. The text says ground aconite, not chopped, Clifford. Do you have difficulty reading English? No? How about following directions? Failed that in preschool, didn't you? I wouldn't give this to my dead dog."

Arista and Mel held their breath as the Potions Master approached, parchment in hand and quill poised. "Snape and Seton. Finally managed to stop babbling, I see." He peered at their potion, gave it a stir with a spoon. "Consistency, could be thicker. A bit darker than normal, you used a drop too much lavender essence. Otherwise, this is workable. A-."

Mel gave Arista a high five.

"I wouldn't be celebrating so soon, Miss Snape," Severus interrupted. "You still owe  
me a detention, young lady. Eleven o'clock tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir."

"Homework. Two rolls of parchment on the properties of phoenix tears and how they  
react when mixed with the following substances—dragon's blood, snake venom, chimera saliva—sit _down_ Mr. Anderson, I haven't dismissed you yet!—and bugbear fur."

There were the predictable groans over their homework, but at last they finished  
scribbling it down and were free to leave. There was a mad scramble for the door.

* * * * * *

Arista entered his office at precisely eleven o'clock. He glanced up from the current  
batch of exams he'd been grading and said, "Close the door and sit down."

She did so, coming back to sit on the small chair in front of his desk.

He set down his quill. "Not here two months and already in trouble. Disgraceful. I'd  
have expected that sort of thing from a troublemaker like Potter or the Weasley twins, but not my own daughter. Such behavior is completely unacceptable, Arista Snape, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"I don't ever want to hear of anything like this occurring again, am I understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Because if you ever earn a detention from me again, you'll be very sorry. That  
much I can promise you. I won't have it said that my daughter goes around breaking rules left and right whenever it suits her. Best learn to control that temper of yours, my girl, before it gets you into more trouble than it's worth. Have you anything to say?"

She nodded, then she straightened to attention like a soldier on parade review and said quietly, "I'm sorry I embarrassed you, sir. But I'm _not_ sorry I punched her out. I'd do it again if I had to."

"Well. At least you're honest. Actually, I'm not sorry either. She had it coming."

"Then why--?"

"Why am I giving you detention? You ought to know the answer to that."

"Because not even a professor's daughter is above school rules."

"Excellent. Do me a favor and remember it. That being so, " he rose to his feet and  
beckoned her out of the office. "Here's your punishment. In that cabinet over there," he  
indicated a large low cabinet along the far wall of the dungeon. "are various potion  
ingredients. You will take them out, label them, and put them back neatly and in alphabetical order."

She stared at the cabinet in dismay. "In one_ hour_? But that's impossible! It's going to  
take me a month to do all of that."

"Whatever you don't finish today, you can continue with next Saturday."

"But—that's not fair!" Arista cried. "Did you give Marsh some impossible task too?  
Or did she get off just because she's in Slytherin?"

"I don't discuss detentions with students." Snape said frostily. "Furthermore, no one  
who serves detention with me _ever_ gets off easy. Otherwise, what would be the point? You don't like it? Then don't get in trouble. Now quit whining and get started." He picked up a box of parchment labels from his desk and handed them to her. "You may use a sticking charm to put them on, but otherwise no magic allowed. And write _neatly_, I'll need to be able to read them."

She took them sullenly and walked over to the cabinet. Then she opened the door and began to take out all of the various jars, bottles, beakers, boxes, and bags. She just hoped she'd be able to identify them all. She set them down in front of her. Then she began the long, arduous task of identifying and re-labeling.

She mentally called Brittany Marsh every bad word she knew. Then she glanced up  
to see what her father was doing. He appeared to be reading homework essays, pausing every so often to mutter something and write comments with his green quill. _Why does he have to be such a damn perfectionist?_ She thought irritably. _He as much admitted that I had good cause for punching the snot out of her, so why give me the assignment from hell as punishment? Well, okay, maybe it's not all that terrible, but **still.** Everyone makes mistakes. I'll bet even **he** got detention a few times when he was in school. _Strange, but he'd never really discussed his days at Hogwarts with her. It had never occurred to her to wonder why, until now. Something told her that perhaps he'd never talked about it because something bad had happened, something he wanted to forget about. It was the same with his childhood. He rarely spoke about it, and then he only mentioned his mother.

Something Colin had said to her flashed in her head. _Your mother told me once that  
he didn't have a real good childhood, so he's going to do his best to make sure you never get hurt the way he was. All fathers are overprotective of their daughters_. She chewed her lip thoughtfully as she wrote **bezoar stone** on a label. _Is that why he invented this punishment? Because he's trying to keep me safe from Brittany?_ If she were here, under his eye, she wouldn't be out there, at liberty to get pounded by her archrival.

Then she thought about how surprised Harry and Ron had been that he'd given a  
Slytherin detention. It was only natural that the Heads of each House would dislike taking points from their own, for not only would it cost them the House Cup, but it also reflected badly on them as teachers, like they couldn't discipline their own students. _And look who he's got to work with—the biggest bunch of snots, brats, and sneaks in the whole school. I'd never want to be Head of Slytherin House. Wonder why he is? Maybe because he's the only one that could handle 'em_. Slytherin had won the House Cup over seven times in a row before Harry Potter had come to Hogwarts, that was a matter of record. But how many times had they won it before her father became Head? _Not many, she'd wager. They've won because he pushes them_._ Just like the way he does the rest of us. And himself._ Yet he'd not hesitated to slap his star Quidditch player with a detention, in fact, he'd been furious that she had dared question him about it. She knew the other students all assumed it was because of her that he'd come down hard on Brittany. Part of it was, she knew, but she suspected he'd been looking for an excuse to punish Marsh for a long time now and hadn't been able to catch her in the act. Arista wondered anew what he'd given the other girl as detention.

She had emptied out about a third of the cabinet and it was already twenty minutes into her detention. The only sound in the room was her father's quill scratching softly across the parchment. She picked up a beaker of what was supposed to be gorgon's blood, only when she'd removed the stopper, she found it had gelled to a sticky lump and was now unusable. Some of these ingredients were getting too old to be used.

"Um, am I allowed to talk during this detention, or are you giving me the silent treatment too?" she asked, glancing up at his desk.

He set down his quill and looked at her. "What is it?" he asked, and his voice was not  
angry.

"Some of these ingredients are past due. You need to get some new ones. The  
gorgon's blood has gelled and the puffball skeleton has crumbled to dust."

"It's been awhile since I've taken inventory of that cabinet. Make a list of the things  
that need replacing. When you've done the entire cabinet, we'll take the list and go shopping for whatever we need."

"Really? You mean, go shopping off the grounds?" she inquired eagerly.

"No, I'd thought we'd hold a bazaar on the lawn," he rolled his eyes. "Of _course_ off  
the school grounds. Did you think we weren't able to leave? This isn't a prison sentence, you know," his voice gentled further. "You may come with me if you want."

"Sure," she agreed. Was that a hint of wistfulness in his tone there at the end? Could  
he want to spend time with her, and was using this excursion as an excuse? Yes, that would be like him. "It'll be my first chance to see something besides the four walls of the castle in over a month. And you know how I love shopping, Dad."

"I know. It's inherited, I think." His mouth twitched into a smile. "Your mom used  
to drag me all over Diagon Alley and London shopping for everything, but mostly shoes." He cast his eyes heavenward. "I learned more about shoes in six months than I ever did in my life, God help me."

Arista giggled.

"Think it's funny, do you?" he gave her a mock-glare.

"It is. Just the thought of somebody making you do something you didn't want to."

"Your mother could usually persuade me to do anything with her," he admitted. "And  
I do plenty of things I don't want to, believe me. Make that list and keep sorting that cabinet, young lady. Or else you can kiss that shopping trip goodbye."

"Yes, sir." She summoned a blank piece of paper from off of his desk and began  
writing. "Am I allowed to buy anything on this shopping trip?"

"Such as?"

"A book," she hedged.

"The new Fantastic Beasts compendium?" he guessed shrewdly.

"How'd you know?"

"I've been known to wander into a bookstore a time or two myself. Tell you what. If  
you behave yourself from now until then, I'll buy you it. But _only_ if you behave, young lady. Fair enough?"

"It's a deal. I'll be an angel," she promised.

"Right."

"I _will_," she insisted. "You'll see. I'll prove you wrong, for once."

"Do it then," he challenged. "Oh, before I forget, did I sign your permission slip for  
Hogsmeade? That's coming up in another two weeks, I think."

"Yeah, you did that already. Before I came here. Hey, Dad? Did you hear from Remus  
Lupin yet? Did he try the potion?"

"As a matter of fact I got a letter from him yesterday." He rummaged about on his  
desk.

"And? Did it work?"

"Read it for yourself."

She took the piece of parchment and scanned it rapidly. Then she let out a shriek. "I **did** it! Did you see what he wrote?" she was grinning from ear to ear. "He shapechanges, but he's himself, just like an Animagus. And one dose is good for three months." She gave another yell of delight.

He winced. "You're_ my_ daughter, all right," he acknowledged, and the look of pride  
in his face was unmistakable. "Now will you_ please_ stop screaming? People will think I'm beating you or something." Then he added, "After the trial period of three months, I think we can let other Potions Masters and Mistresses try the recipe. I'd like to test it out myself."

"Be my guest. It's not quite as good as a permanent cure, but it's a step forward."

"Well, you know what I always say. Practice makes perfect."

She groaned. "Dad, please."

"All right. Break time's over, miss. Now get back to work. What letter are you on?"

"F, I think."

"At the rate you're going, you won't see that book until Christmas, if that," he said  
gruffly. Then he turned back to grading his papers. She turned back to her sorting and  
labeling. She could feel his smile without turning around. It matched hers identically.

At last the hour was up. "How far did you get?" her father asked.

"Through H. And here's the list so far." She handed him the list of missing  
ingredients.

He scanned it rapidly. "Most of these aren't too hard to find. But you still have the  
rest to go through. Same time next Saturday."

"I'll be here, sir."

"You'd better be. Now go on, get out of here. I'm sick of the sight of you."

"And I'm starving," she said and turned to go.

"Arista?"

"Yes, sir?" she turned back to look at him.

"Answer a question for me. That song you Ravenclaws were singing at the Quidditch  
match. Who wrote it?"

She hesitated a moment before replying. "Me."

"Did you really?" she couldn't tell if he was amused or angry. "Well, go on, what are  
you waiting for?"

She went, shutting the door almost all the way. Then some instinct made her peek  
through the crack in the door.

The Potions Master had his head on his desk, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably with laughter.

**A/N: Sev uses standard grades--A, B, C for his potions experiments, not the OWL standards, which i think are specially reserved for them like our SATS. So what did you think of Arista and Marsh? Any ideas on what Sev gave Marsh for detention? You'll find out in the next one! *smiles slyly***


	20. Snape's Rejects

**Snape's Rejects**

﻿At lunch, Arista met with Mel, Tricia, and Kit. They now sat together openly, for  
Tricia and Kit often sought out Arista for extra help with homework, and she was working with Kit on improving his Transfiguration spells.

"Did you hear what your dad did to Brittany?" Kit asked, unable to keep the smirk off  
his face.

"No. He wouldn't tell me." Arista admitted. "_What _happened?"

Kit leaned in across the table. "Now, I got this information directly from Drake, who  
heard it from Brittany's own mouth, she was whining to her court ladies and he was hiding behind a pillar and heard everything."

"Go on. Don't keep me in suspense, please!"

"Well, you know how we call her the Marsh Maid? Snape made her—oh this is so  
perfect—he made her take the eggs out of two dozen dead pincer crabs for some kind of potion. And that's not all. Then he made her scrub his dungeon. Without magic. On her hands and knees with a _scrub brush and a bucket. The whole floor_. And while she was doing that he kept walking around and pointing out spots she'd missed and making her do it over."

Tricia and Mel were grinning in glee. "He had her so upset, she was practically in  
tears!" Tricia said. "What I wouldn't have given to see_ that_—Queen Brittany, Quidditch star, scrubbing a floor like a house elf! I'll bet she broke all her nails."

"And she said it's going to take weeks for her to get the smell of those crab guts off of  
her hands." Mel reported, snickering like a demented gargoyle. "Queen of the Fens, indeed!"

"I have to say, I never thought Snape'd go that far," Kit said, laughing also.

"You don't know my father, Kit." Arista said. "He was royally PO'd at her. And not  
just over me. It was her attitude that really got to him. He loathes people who think they deserve special treatment, especially when they've done nothing to earn it. He also hates whining crybabies. I learned a long time ago to just take my punishments and shut up."

"Speaking of punishments, what'd he do to you? Beat you?" Kit asked.

"That's_ not_ funny, Ambrosius," Arista snapped, her eyes narrowed. "Don't ever talk  
like that about my dad again, got me? He's never raised a hand to me. He doesn't hit kids. So don't even go there."

Kit held up his hands. "Sorry. I was only kidding." He blushed furiously. "I shouldn't  
have said that. I was out of line."

"Okay. I forgive you." Arista relented. "And he's making me clean out that huge  
cabinet in the back of the dungeon with all those potions. He has me sorting and labeling and putting everything back in alphabetical order."

Mel exchanged glances with Tricia of utter horror. "My God! But that'll take forever.  
That cabinet's the whole length of the classroom."

"Tell me about it. I have to go back next Saturday and finish it. If I can."

"Man, and here I thought being the teacher's kid meant you got off easy when it came  
to detentions," Kit said.

"No way, Kit!" Mel laughed. "Being a teacher's relative means you get double the  
grief and double the punishments if you step out of line. Trust me, I _know_."

"That's right. You're Professor Sprout's niece, aren't you?" Tricia asked.

"Yeah. And she's almost as bad as Professor Snape when it comes to giving out  
detentions. Try weeding her whole garden sometime. It ain't no picnic."

"That's for sure," Arista agreed, rubbing her back. "My back's killing me from  
bending over so much." She put another slice of roast beef on her plate, along with some green beans and scalloped potatoes.

"Can you believe the amount of Transfiguration homework we have?" Kit groaned.  
"And I don't understand half of it. You free tonight, Arista? I could really use your help  
before this next test."

"Meet me in the library. We can go over it there."

"Thanks so much. Cause if I get another D this term, my dad says he's gonna take  
away my broomstick and make me repeat the whole course. He thinks I'm not trying hard enough." The boy scowled at his plate. "Damned impossible subject! Just because my ancestor was one of the greatest Transfiguration masters of all time, he expects all of us to be the same way."

"Poor Kit. And you've got an older brother too." Tricia said.

"Yeah, the perfect Nigel. Graduated top of his class last year." Kit made a face.  
"They're always throwing that in my face. But your brother was never like this when **he** was in school, Christopher. He was a bloody brilliant wizard, could cast ten spells at one time and blow sunshine out of his arse too! Don't know what went wrong with you, boy. Must take after your mum's side of the family." He broke off abruptly. "Sorry. Didn't mean to go on like that. I just got an owl from him this morning, and it always makes me boiling mad after I read his letters."

"Parents! Can't live with 'em and can't curse 'em," Mel said sympathetically.

"Ain't that the truth! My mum's always on me to watch what I eat. She used to be a  
model for _Witch Weekly_, back when she was seventeen," Tricia said.

"Honest? I never knew that!" Mel exclaimed.

"I don't like to advertise it. People might think I was, you know, a snob like Brittany."  
Tricia said softly. "And, well, I'm not exactly model material."

"You're fine just the way you are," Arista told her firmly. "Looks aren't everything.  
Take Marsh for example, looks like a Gold Galleon, but she's really just a lump of lead on the inside. I wouldn't be her for all the tea in China."

"Me neither!" agreed the others fervently.

"Speaking of our favorite Slytherin, when are we going to spike her pumpkin juice?"  
Mel asked in an undertone.

"Say what?" Tricia hissed, her eyes wide in her round face. "Spike it with what?"

"Our Decongestion Draft we made this morning," Mel told her with a sly grin. "We  
nicked some out of the cauldron when the professor's back was turned. We were going to slip it into her pumpkin juice at dinner."

"Cool. That stuff tastes like something puked and then died," Kit remarked. "I had  
bronchitis once and my mum practically force fed me it."

"So did my dad. Well, not force fed me exactly, but he gave me one of those _looks_.  
You know what I mean," Arista said. Everyone nodded, they'd all been on the receiving end of Snape's glares. "Anyway, I don't think I'm going to be able to do it, Mel."

"What? Why not?"

"Because I made a promise to my dad that I'd stay out of trouble for a month. I know  
it sounds lame, but I never break my promises to him. So, somebody else has to do it." Arista said regretfully.

"I'd do it, but I could never get near the Slytherin table without someone noticing,"  
sighed Tricia.

"Me either. I'm no good at sneaking around, I trip over my feet too much," Mel  
admitted, frowning down at her size nine shoes.

"I'll do it," came a quiet voice.

They all jumped about three feet into the air. Kit spun around so fast he nearly  
knocked his chair over.

Drake Lockwood stood behind them, a dark wraith in his school robes with their  
Slytherin crest.

"Cripes, Lockwood! Next time warn a guy," Kit scowled. "I nearly climbed up a wall.  
You make less noise than the castle ghosts."

Drake smiled at that. "Sorry. B-but moving like a shadow's the only w-way I survive  
in my House. If they d-don't know I'm there, they c-can't start anything with me."

"Yeah, I can see that." Kit said, beckoning the other boy to a seat. "Can't hurt what  
you can't catch."

"Nobody hears me unless I w-want them to," Drake said simply. "Lucky I'm small and  
fast. It h-helps when you've g-got to hide in a broom closet."

"Do they ever let up on you?" Mel asked, her eyes bright with indignation.

"Sometimes. W-when they've found some new kid to t-torment. Or when P-professor  
Snape's around. They don't touch me then. He c-caught Crabbe and G-goyle once when they w-were hexing me. H-he was mad as blazes. He made them scrub all the toilets in the h- haunted g-girl's bathroom. The one with Moaning Myrtle."

"He would do that." Arista said.

"How come we never knew that?" Kit wanted to know.

"Because he made me p-promise not to tell," Drake admitted, blushing slightly. "Only  
I guess it's okay if you know, as long as you d-don't tell anybody else."

"We'll keep your secret, Lockwood." Mel reassured him, giving him a friendly smile.  
"Last thing you need is Snape snarked off at you."

"Thanks. If he's around after supper, he g-gives me jobs to do for him, like sharpening quills, or g-getting a book from the library. If I'm on an errand for him, the others leave me alone."

"Why doesn't he just tell them point blank to leave you be?" Kit asked.

"B-because then it would seem like he favored me over them. And then it would be  
worse. I'm used to it."

"But it's not right!" Arista objected hotly. "Always running and hiding. Nobody has  
the right to do that to you, I don't care who their parents are."

"It w-wouldn't be so bad if I c-could cast spells q-quickly." Drake said with an angry glint in his eye. "B-but this d-damn stutter of mine . . .Everytime I t-try to d-defend myself, my t-tongue g-gets in knots."

"Isn't there anything they can do for you?" Tricia asked.

Drake shrugged. "The H-healers said I w-would g-grow out of it. B-but that's not  
much h-help now."

Arista was thinking hard. "Maybe there's a way I could help you with your stutter,  
Drake. But I'll have to do some more research on speech disabilities."

Drake brightened at that. "C-could you, Arista? That w-would be g-great! If you c-  
could heal the Longbottoms, you can heal me too."

"Well, I can try."

"W-where's that p-potion you made? I can slip it in Marsh's drink easy," the Slytherin  
boy declared. "P-payback for the time she made me eat spiders."

"Ugh!" Arista thought she was going to be sick. "She made you eat _spiders_?"

Drake nodded, his eyes dark. "Two of her b-boyfriends held me down while she  
shoved the w-wand in my mouth. I w-was sick for two days."

"That's _horrible_!" Mel gasped. "She deserves anything we do to her then."

Arista slipped the vial of Decongestion Draft from her bag. "Here. I think there's  
enough to doctor hers and maybe somebody else's too."

"James H-hathaway," Drake hissed softly, his gray eyes blazing. "He's Marsh's c-  
current boyfriend. I h-hate his guts. H-he helped her w-with the spiders. And some other things too." He palmed the vial so quickly Arista barely felt it.

"How'd you _do_ that?" she asked.

"Sleight-of-h-hand." Drake showed her where the vial was nestled up his sleeve. "Fake magic t-tricks. But I can make anything small vanish. Including myself." He grinned at her. "W-watch the Slytherin table t-tonight. You'll see something amazing, I p-promise."

Kit clapped the smaller boy on the back. "You're all right, Lockwood. Even if you are a Slytherin."

"You're okay too, Ambrosius. For a Gryffindor."

The two exchanged friendly grins.

"I have an idea," Arista said suddenly. "I say all five of us should form a committee.  
A committee dedicated to ridding Hogwarts of bullies like Marsh and all of them. Soon as I'm done with my detention, I'll be able to help you fight them."

"_Fight_ them?" Mel repeated incredulously. "What fumes did you inhale down there  
in the dungeon, Snape? Marsh and her gang are some of the best spellcasters in the school. And you want _us_, the school rejects, to take them on? Me, that can't walk two feet without tripping over something, Kit, who can't Transfigure anything for his life."

"Me, w-who can b-barely talk," Drake put in.

"And me, who's been compared to the Fat Lady," said Tricia. "We'll get our butts kicked."

Arista shook her head. "Not if we do this right. Listen to me. One thing I learned  
from my Dark Hunter teachers in America is that two people working together can accomplish twice as much as one working alone. That's why most assignments they get sent out on they use partners. And they catch their quarry nine times out of ten."

"That's great for them. But we ain't Dark Hunters, mate," Kit reminded her.

"But there's no reason why you can't become like them."

"How? There's no Academy here." Mel said.

"So we'll make our own. I was a Hunter apprentice for over two years before I came  
here. I had two of the best teachers on the force. Colin was the Hunter combat master before he was my teacher, three years running. You know that punch I gave Brittany yesterday? He taught me that. He could kick your ass just by looking at you."

"Like your dad," Tricia said.

"Yeah. I had lessons every day with him for over two years. I can teach you all how  
to defend yourselves, both with and without magic. And if we all stick together, we won't be as vulnerable to Brittany and company. My mom used to say nothing's impossible if you believe in magic. And cooperation's a magic all its own. I'm sick of Marsh thinking she can walk all over everybody just 'cause her father's some hotshot rich banker and she's pretty and popular. It's time somebody taught her and her little court some manners."

"I agree, but us?" Tricia looked doubtful.

"Why _no_t us?" Arista demanded. "We're just as good as they are. Better, in fact. So  
what do you say?"

Mel deliberated for about two minutes before saying, "Count me in, Snape. The Marsh  
Maid's reign of terror needs to end."

"I'm in too." Kit agreed. "I may be a screw-up in Transfiguration, but I'm pretty good  
at the Darks Arts. And I'm sick of being known as Merlin's Mistake."

"Tricia? How about you?" Arista asked.

The Hufflepuff girl hesitated. Then she nodded. "Bessie the cow's gonna trample them."

They all looked at Drake.

"Arista's right. It's t-time to s-top running. I can g-get you all the information you n-  
need on them. T-teach me how to be a Dark Hunter, Arista. I'm tired of b-being a little g- grass snake that g-gets stepped on."

"We'll turn you into a king snake," Arista promised. "The kind that eats cobras like  
Marsh and Hathaway for breakfast."

"Yeah. A k-king snake," Drake grinned. "I like that. Let's do it."

All of them clasped hands. "Here's to us and our covert war. My dad says if you go  
looking for trouble, trouble will find you," Arista quoted. "Brittany Marsh goes looking for trouble. And trouble's just found her."

Five pairs of eyes met and locked together.

"This is gonna be the worst year Marsh and her buddies ever had," Mel vowed. "Or my name ain't Melinda Sandra Seton."

Just then there was a scuffle at the entrance to the hall, as Marsh and several other  
Slytherin girls pushed into the room. Hathaway was on her arm, a tall good-looking blond guy who clearly regarded himself as God's gift to women. Arista detested him on sight. Some of the other Slytherin girls hanging about Marsh were Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, and Arabella Chandler, who was second cousin to Draco Malfoy.

Brittany strode down the center of the room, moving like she was some kind of royalty,  
her head high, looking down her nose at everyone.

_I'll give her one thing. She sure knows how to make an entrance_, Arista thought  
grudgingly.

Marsh looked superb, her fancy green and black robes exquisitely tailored, her long  
blond hair coiled up on her head, a diamond tennis bracelet flashing off one wrist, the one Hathaway had on his arm. Her missing tooth had been fixed by Pomfrey. There was no trace of dirt or soap on her person, no sign that she'd ever done manual labor that morning. Arista's eyes darted to the girl's hands. _Wait. Her nails were short, she probably cut them because they broke. _They were trimmed neatly and had some kind of gold polish on them, but they were barely a half-an-inch long. _Way to go, Dad! You ruined Queenie's forty Sickle manicure. _  
"Speak of the devil," Kit murmured.

Marsh turned her head, almost as if she had heard Kit's comment, and her eyes lit up.  
"Well, look at this, Hathaway. Snape's gone slumming with the dregs of the school. All the rejects are sitting here. Bessie Moo-Cow, Staggering Melly, Merlin's Mistake, and look, it's our own Ducky! Starting a new study group, are you? Rejects Anonymous."

"Looks like it, Brit." He eyed Arista condescendingly. "Guess you're not daddy's little  
girl any more, are you, Snape? Detention after a month, naughty child. Tsk. Tsk." he shook a finger in her face.

The other Slytherins cracked up.

"Doesn't beat your record, Hathaway," Mel retorted. "Last year, you got detention  
with McGonagall the day after we started school. For being a—how did she put it? Oh, yes, a whiney smart-aleck brat."

"Shut your trap, Seton," Hathaway ordered, his face red.

Now the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were all laughing too.

"Hey, how's the nails, Marsh?" Tricia asked sweetly. "Have you got all the fish guts off them yet?"

"Don't think so. I can smell them from here," cried a fifth-year Ravenclaw from the next table.

"You know, Marsh, my mum could use some help scrubbing the floor," Ron called. "Now that you know how to do it right, I'll tell her to call you."

The Gryffindor table was doubled over laughing.

"Shut up, Weasley! At least my parents don't breed like rabbits," Brittany snarled,  
glaring daggers at Ron.

"No, they just breed house elves," Kit threw back.

More laughter followed. "Better than breeding a mistake like you, Ambrosius."  
Hathaway said, his lip curling. "I heard they found you on the doorstep as a baby. No  
wonder."

Kit flushed a dull red. Drake whispered something in Arista's ear.

"Well, at least he has a decent family background, Hathaway. Wasn't your grandfather  
some kind of dairy farmer out in Sussex? No wonder you like to hang around Marsh. You're hoping some of her class will rub off on you," Arista said, and gave him a wicked smile.

"At least I _have_ class, Snape," sniffed Brittany. "Your father must want to die of  
shame, seeing the riffraff you're hanging out with. Must be that American blood in you. Bring me your tired, hungry, and poor, eh, Snape? And look, they came running."

Arista clenched her fist and started to rise.

Mel grabbed her arm. "Temper, Arista. Remember your promise."

Arista gritted her teeth and forced herself to ignore the other girl. "Right. She's not worth it."

"She'll g-get hers tonight," Drake reminded her, jerking his head at his sleeve.

Brittany turned away and moved on down to the Slytherin table.

Arista made herself breathe in and out four times, trying to control her fiery temper.

Mel said quietly, "At least Brittany's done one good thing for us."

"What's that, Mel?" Arista asked.

"She's given us a name."

"Yeah, a terrible one. Rejects Anonymous," Kit shook his head.

"So we'll change it a little," Mel said decisively. "We might be rejects to them, but  
who cares? Let 'em call us that. We'll be _Snape's_ Rejects, and we'll show 'em all what it costs to pick on people who can't defend themselves. Right? We'll be S. R. for short, okay?"

Tricia, Drake, and Kit shrugged. "Kind of weird, but I'll go for it," Kit said, speaking for them. "That all right with you, Arista?"

"Sure, I guess."

Mel whistled happily. "We'll make it a name to be proud of. And feared by bullies everywhere. Hey, that's not bad. Maybe I ought to write that down."

Arista laughed and passed her an extra quill.

Later on at dinner, Arista and Mel made sure they were seated at the end of the  
Ravenclaw table, so they had a prime view of where Brittany was sitting next to Hathaway. Arista scanned the Slytherin table for any sign of Drake. She finally spotted him, sitting off by himself.

He lifted his head and looked over at her, giving her a nod and a thumbs-up sign.

"Did he do it?" Mel whispered.

"Yeah. Now let's watch the show." Arista said.

Brittany lifted her goblet to her lips and drank. So did Hathaway.

Two seconds later they both turned green and threw up all over everything. Kids  
screamed and backed away. "Gross!"

Both of them jumped up from the table and ran out of the hall.

Over at the Gryffindor table, Kit, Ron, and Harry were laughing their heads off.

Drake was smirking behind his hand.

Mel and Arista looked at each other. "Must have been something they ate," the tall girl  
mused.

"Or maybe it's a virus," Arista said. Then they burst out laughing too. _Score one for  
our side. _  
As they made their way out of the hall later, Kit joined them, ready for his tutoring  
session with Arista in the library. "Was that not the funniest thing you ever saw? They're never gonna live that down." Kit chortled. "Oh, by the way, Drake told me to tell you that he slipped a little something extra into that Decongestion Draft."

"What?" Arista asked.

"I don't know. But something that'll make the two of them puke their guts up all  
night. Marsh won't be able to play Quidditch tomorrow."

"Sucks for her," Mel laughed.

"Unless Madam Pomfrey cures them," Arista said. "Oh, damn! What if they check the  
goblets they were drinking from?"

"Quit worrying, Snape. Drake took care of that. He switched the goblets with the  
Decongestion Draft for fresh ones. So the only thing anyone will know is that the two of them drank pumpkin juice and puked all over themselves after." Kit told her.

"_And_ half the Slytherins sitting across from them," Mel said gleefully. "Malfoy and  
Goyle got a faceful."

"That's what you get when you hang out with the popular crowd," Arista said with a  
wicked grin.

In the month that followed, a great many changes came to Hogwarts. On October 30th, the long awaited arrival of the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons occurred. The Triwizard Tournament had also started, only they ended up having four champions instead of three when somebody put Harry Potter's name in the Goblet of Fire. The whole school was abuzz with rumors about how it happened. Arista was of the opinion that some powerful wizard had put Harry's name in the Goblet on purpose, maybe hoping he'd get killed.

"Those tasks are no joke, Mel," she said to her friend as they were crossing the lawn  
on their way to Herbology. "You'd have to be crazy to try and compete with seventh-years."

"Then you wouldn't try it?" Mel teased.

"Not on your life. I know my own limitations, thank you very much."

"Sure you do—Girl Who Healed."

"Oh, stuff it, Seton." Arista ordered, swatting the other girl with her quill. They paused  
to watch some boys from Durmstrang walking down by the lake.

Mel had been right, there were several hot boys among the Durmstrang crowd.  
Unfortunately, they seemed drawn to Brittany Marsh's crowd, which upset Mel, Tricia, and Arista to no end.

"Oh, who needs them anyhow?" Tricia said crossly one afternoon, watching Brittany  
being trailed by five or six Durmstrang boys, all looking like eager puppies hoping to get a treat tossed to them. "They wouldn't know a nice girl if she came up and bit them."

"I know, but _why_ do all the guys go for the bad girls?" Mel sighed moodily.

"Because they're stupid at this age," Arista offered. "Jenna always said there's nothing dumber than a fourteen-year-old boy when it comes to girls. They grow brains when they get older. You hope."

"Maybe I ought to go on a diet," Tricia lamented. "If I was a little slimmer . . ."

"Don't." Mel ordered fiercely. "Don't do that to yourself, Trish. I mean, if a guy can't like you for who you are, and all he likes are looks, then he's no good. Right, Arista?"

"Right." Arista said firmly. "If you want to go on a diet for you, Trish, then go for it. We'll all help you. But don't do it for some guy. That's not worth it."

"You're right. I was being stupid. Besides, I think I've lost a few pounds already from  
those training sessions you put us through, Arista."

"You mean _torture_ sessions, don't you?" Mel groaned. "Running twenty laps around  
the clearing in the Forest. What d'you think we're in, the bloody _army_, for crying out loud?"

"Hey, you asked me to give you self-defense lessons," Arista reminded her.

"_Lessons_, not a bloody exercise regimen!" Mel cried.

"But you have to run and stretch before you learn kung fu, Mel. It builds up wind and  
stamina and loosens up your muscles." Arista said, then halted. "My God, I sound just like Colin. Next thing I'm going to be telling you all to quit whining and just deal with it. That's what he used to tell me when I complained about having to get up first thing in the morning."

Mel rolled her eyes. "You're a damn drill sergeant, Snape. Just like your old man."

"Oh, quit complaining, Seton. How many times have you tripped over your own feet  
in the last week?"

Mel considered. "I, uh, don't know. Maybe three times. Hey, that's a record. Usually  
I'm falling over at least two times a day."

"That's because of my torture sessions. All those stretches and balancing movements I make you do is improving your coordination. In another month or so, I'll bet you won't be tripping over anything."

"Honest?" Mel eyes glowed. "And I can kick the spit out of Millicent Bulstrode if she  
starts anything with me too." She hugged Arista. "Forget what I said, okay? You just go right on torturing me every afternoon."

"I will," Arista said.

They now had lessons every afternoon in a clearing some ways into the Forbidden  
Forest. Arista had gone with Hagrid to speak with Firenze, a young centaur, and ask  
permission to hold her self-defense practices there. The centaur had agreed, and now they had lessons every afternoon they were done with classes. Arista taught them for an hour, using the same methods Colin had with her. They learned kung fu as well as how to block curses, and Arista found she enjoyed the sessions immensely, watching her students improve with each one that went by. _Maybe potion skills aren't all I inherited from Dad. I think I'm a pretty good teacher too. _  
In addition to that, plus all of her regular classes, she was also making an effort to help Drake overcome his stuttering. They met in the clearing on the weekends, after breakfast mostly, and she gave him exercises to do, repeating certain words and sentences over and over.

"There's really no magical cure for this," she'd told him the first day they met. "All it takes is practice and patience. Lots of it. But one thing I can teach you is how to center your mind. That's a meditation exercise. I've noticed you stutter more when you're nervous or upset."

"Yeah, that's t-true. I hardly stutter at all when I'm calm."

"So, the first thing you need to learn is how to be calm all the time. And that means you need to learn how to breathe."

Drake gave her a blank look. "Huh? I already know that. If I didn't I'd be d-dead."

Arista shook her head. "Not what I mean. I mean controlled breathing. Slow and counted, like what you do for meditation. Here, I'll show you."

They worked on meditative breathing exercises that first morning. Later on they  
progressed to breathing techniques and finally Arista taught him to reach a calm and quiet center in his mind. "When you're nervous or something, you tense up, and that makes it harder for you to talk. So you need to find your center and then go there, like I showed you. Then just talk normally. Don't think about what you're going to say, just say it."

Drake gave her a crooked grin. "That's easy for _you_ t-to say, Arista."

"I know. But if you practice, you'll improve. I wish I knew of a potion that could fix you, but I don't."

"That's all right. Something's can't be fixed w-with magic," Drake said softly. He took a deep breath, counting softly. Then he said, "There. That's better."

His eyes popped open. "Arista! I-I didn't stutter that time."

"See? I told you, you could do it!" she praised. "Now try it again. Breathe and focus."

This time she projected an aura of calmness about him, much as she would have done if she were trying to calm an injured animal or a person. "Now, repeat after me. Tom tries to jump barrels by himself but keeps bumping into things."

He did so, and he didn't stutter once, the calming aura soothing his nerves. "How'd  
I do that?" he asked, his voice filled with awe. "I haven't spoken clearly like that since—since I was about five."

"It's all about being calm, Drake," she told him. "And well, I have a secret to share  
with you. Before, I projected a calming aura at you. See, I'm an empath, and that's how I healed the Longbottoms, but I don't want anybody to know, because then they'll think I go around prying into everybody's feelings."

"An empath, huh? That does sort of g-go with your Healing gift." Drake said. "Is that  
how you sometimes can t-tell what people are going to do b-before they do it?"

"Sometimes, yeah. When I lower my shields a bit, then I can feel what someone else  
is feeling and can predict what they're gonna do. But I don't do it a lot, because it's not right to just read people like that for no reason."

"Yeah. D'you mind if we tell the r-rest of them?"

"No. They're my friends too, and I trust them." She cleared her throat. "Okay. Let's get back to your lesson, Mr. Lockwood."

He made a face at her. "Slavedriver."

"Drake! I am not!"

"Only k-kidding, Snape. Can't you take a joke?" His gray eyes twinkled merrily.

She grinned at him. "You're a riot, Lockwood. Now—let's try this one. Peter picks  
a pack of pickled peppers."

"I _hate_ this one," he groaned.

"Drake, just say it."

"Okay, P-professor." He began counting off breaths again, centering himself.

By the middle of the third week he could say two or three sentences without stuttering.  
She was surprised by his progress and said so. "I've been practicing on my own. Before I go to sleep. I do all those sentences and stuff. I think it's w-working."

"Uh-huh. Before you know it, we'll have you casting spells."

Thursday was their study group night, when they all met in the library to help each  
other with homework and tests. As Professor Sprout's niece, Mel earned top honors in Herbology, and coached Tricia while Arista helped Kit with Transfiguration and Drake helped Arista with Astronomy.

"I like to look at the stars. It calms me down, when I do my meditation," he said one  
evening, as he tested her on the conjunctions of planets.

"I wish I could take your cat with me when I take my Transfiguration final," Kit said,  
petting Comfrey, who was curled in his lap purring. "She calms my nerves better than a Sleeping Draft."

"That's the lavender fairy cat in her," Drake said, reaching out to tickle the gray cat  
with a finger. "Now, r-remember, when you say the spell, concentrate on what you w-want the object to be, then point your wand and focus."

"I know, Lockwood." Kit said irritably. He scowled at the small block of wood he'd  
been trying to transform into a goblet. "Let's see _you_ do it."

Drake pulled out his wand, gave two deep breaths, then spoke the words to the  
Transfiguration spell and pointed his wand. The block of wood blurred and became a finely crafted goblet.

Kit nearly fell out of his chair. "Holy God! When'd you learn to cast like that, Drake?"

Drake grinned proudly. "Been doing that for a week now. Arista's been drilling me."

The others shot her injured looks. "And you didn't tell us?" Mel said, pretending to be hurt.

"We wanted it to be a surprise," Arista chuckled.

"Was that the first time you've cast a spell without stuttering?" Tricia asked, twirling one of her blond curls idly in her finger.

Drake shook his head. "I cast a hex on Hathaway on Wednesday."

"No_ way_!" Kit's jaw dropped.

"It was just after dinner," Drake told them slowly. "I was coming back to my room to  
study for Charms, and Hathaway saw me. I knew he was gonna try to curse me and I-I just got mad. I pulled out my w-wand and yelled Expelliarmus. Next thing I knew, Hathaway was on the ground and his wand was across the room."

"What happened next?" Mel asked eagerly.

"Then I pointed my wand at him and I said how'd you like to eat slugs and I cast that  
on h-him," Drake recited proudly. "B-but while he was choking up slugs, Professor Snape came in."

Arista put her face in her hands. "Let me guess. He gave you detention for dueling,  
right?"

"No. He saw me with my wand out, and I thought d-damn now I'm in for it. But he  
looked at me, looked at H-hathaway and he told Hathaway to go to the Hospital Wing. Then he said, "A most unfortunate accident, was it, Lockwood?" And I said, "Yes, sir." And he nodded and went on by me. A most unfortunate accident!" Drake repeated, then he started to laugh.

"This calls for a celebration," Tricia declared. She waved her wand and called up a  
plate of pumpkin pasties, Chocolate Frogs and five bottles of butterbeer. "Here's to hoping Hathaway has a lot more unfortunate accidents, courtesy of Drake Lockwood."

"I'll drink to that," Arista said, and she did.

* * * * * *  
From that point on, Arista and her friends began practicing Defense Against the Dark  
Arts magic religiously. She even taught them a way to block curses without a wand, since her earlier training had been in the American tradition. She still practiced the spells she'd learned from Colin and Jenna that way, making her the most well-rounded witch in Hogwarts, as Kit had said once.

They now practiced what Arista called the Lightning Draw, which was a test to see  
who could pull out their wand the fastest. She and Drake consistently won those contests, for both were naturally agile and quick. Drake's reflexes had been honed by years of persecution by his fellow Slytherins, and Arista's had been fine-tuned by Colin.

Still, with repetition, even Mel, who they sometimes called Butterfingers jokingly,  
could draw her wand quicker than over half of the Hogwarts students.

Tricia, easily the quietest of their group, came into her own when they started studying  
shield charms and curse blocking techniques. Tricia could block quicker then any of them, even Arista.

It was when they were all practicing Shield Charms one afternoon on the weekend,  
right after the Triwizard Champions had finished their first task—fighting dragons—that something unforeseen and extraordinary happened.

Arista had them all lined up in a row, wands out and pointed at the trees, ready to cast  
the Shield Charm on her signal. She was touching each of their minds lightly with her  
empathic gift, not reading them, precisely, but more like allowing their feelings to flow  
through her. "Okay. Ready? On three. One! Two! Three!"

They all pointed their wands and shouted, "Protego!"

At that moment all of their minds were being touched by Arista and when they cast the  
Shield Charm, their will and magic combined and lent the simple Shield Charm far greater strength than it would have otherwise had.

Normally it would have only conjured a small bubble of magical air about each of the  
wizards. But the linking of their minds and powers combined to make the Shield Charm five times as powerful. There was a brilliant flash from all their wands and the next thing they knew, a huge bubble was hanging over them, encasing them in a protective wall.

All of them stared at each other, mouths agape.

"What the blazes!" exclaimed Kit, looking as if his wand had just bitten him.

"How did that happen?" inquired Tricia, shaking her wand.

"What'd we do?" Mel asked, confusion written all over her face.

"I've never been able to do a Shield Charm that way," Drake said dazedly.

"Me either," Arista said. "I don't know exactly what just happened here, but I think  
. . .somehow we . . .combined our powers."

"We what?" repeated Mel.

"Come again?" Kit frowned.

"She said we combined our powers," Tricia repeated wonderingly. "But how could  
we? I don't even think it's possible."

"Yes, it is," Drake said softly. "We just did it."

"But how?" Kit looked over at Arista. "Got any theories, Snape?"

Arista was silent for several moments, going over what had just occurred with the  
Shield Charm. She replayed the events in her head, finally coming to this conclusion. "Here's what I think happened. When we first began to cast the spell, I was using my empathy to touch all of you gently, not so I could feel your emotions, but so I could get a sense of timing. I was still doing it when we all cast the spell at the same time. Somehow I linked us all together and our powers combined and that—" she indicated the huge bubble of magic. "—was the result. A Shield Charm magnified five times its ordinary strength."

"Awesome!" Mel whispered.

"If I didn't see it with my own two eyes, I'd say you're all nuts," Kit said, blinking at  
the bubble.

"Nobody's ever gonna believe this!" Drake said, tapping the bubble with his wand.

"I barely believe it myself, and I was right here," Arista said.

"Can we do it again, d'you think?" Tricia asked.

Arista looked at all of them. "We can try, if that's all right with all of you?"

Everyone nodded.

"Okay. Wands at the ready. One! Two! Three! _Protego_!"

Five voices shouted the spell at the same moment, linked by Arista's empathy. Once  
again, their magic became combined as their wills became one for an instant, and the Shield Charm was magnified to five times its original strength.

"It worked!" Arista cried excitedly.

"Cool. Can we try another spell?" Kit asked.

"It has to be something we all know," Arista said. "How about Wingardium Leviosa?  
That's one we all know front to back."

"What are we trying to make fly?" asked Tricia sensibly.

"How about that log over there?" Drake indicated a rotten log a few feet away from  
them.

"Good, we'll make that fly. Now, everyone focus," Arista ordered. She opened her mind and linked them. "Wands up! One. Two. Three. _Wingardium Leviosa_!"

The rotten log flew about thirty feet up in the air.

"Whoa!" Mel cried.

The log wobbled as her concentration wavered.

"Mel! Concentrate!" Arista yelled.

"Oops. Sorry!" Mel apologized then focused her mind back on the log.

The log hung in the air like some odd kind of bird.

"Let's get it down," Tricia said, and they all concentrated again.

The log drifted down and hit the forest floor with a thump.

Slowly, the five students sat down on the ground, not knowing quite what to make of  
this new ability they had discovered. "Should we tell someone?" Tricia wanted to know. "Like maybe Dumbledore?"

"Yeah, wouldn't he be interested to know we could combine our magic and make  
spells stronger?" Mel said.

"Definitely." Drake nodded.

"Hey, this kind of thing isn't, uh, forbidden or anything, right?" Kit asked uneasily.

"Why would it be forbidden? We didn't do anything except cooperate together to cast  
a spell. Isn't that what they've been trying to teach us? How to work together and help each other?" Arista commented.

Slowly, Drake nodded. "She's right. We d-didn't try and curse anyone, all we did was  
cast charms."

"Magnified charms. I wonder what else we could do?" Mel nibbled on her finger.

"Could you imagine if we cast a Stunning Hex? What would that be like—magnified  
five times?" Kit mused.

"That could kill someone," Tricia muttered, her eyes wide with horror.

"Stunning Hexes don't kill, Trish. They only knock you out," Kit snorted.

"Normal Stunning hexes do," said Drake. "But ones magnified five times? We d-don't  
know what that would do to someone."

"I think we have to be very careful with this," Arista cautioned. "We need to  
experiment some more with it before we go showing anyone. We need to start slowly and only cast spells that aren't harmful. Until we figure out what we can and can't do with it."

"And then we go to Dumbledore." Tricia said firmly.

"Yes. But right now I think we all need to rest." Arista suggested.

"Amen to that!" Mel yawned. "I'm beat. I want to eat something and then go to bed."

Drake looked puzzled. "Why are we all tired? I just woke up two hours ago."

"Maybe this business of combining magics wears you out faster than normal?" Arista  
said. "Yeah, I guess that would make sense. It's harder for us to concentrate and combine our magics that way."

"Arista, does it, uh, hurt you when you link us?" Kit wanted to know.

"No. The only time an empath feels pain when she touches another's mind is if that  
person is projecting pain or fear so strongly she can't block it out. All I was doing was  
touching you gently, just enough to bind us together."

"What's it feel like? Can you describe it?" Mel asked.

"Umm, not exactly. But it's, well, kind of like feeling a sense of belonging, like we  
were all, uh, connected somehow. That's not really a good description, but it's the best I can do. In order to really understand it, you'd have to be an empath."

Tricia covered her mouth with her hand. "Well, since I'm not, that explanation sounds  
pretty good to me. I vote we save this discussion for tomorrow or whatever and go back to bed."

Her motion was eagerly seconded by the rest of them.

* * * * * *  
The end of the first term was approaching rapidly, and soon the Christmas holidays  
would be coming up. Their teachers were piling on more homework as a result, and all of them were kept busy trying to keep up with it and study for finals, so they didn't have as much time as they would have liked to practice combining their magics or work on self-defense.

Still, what they had practiced so far was more than adequate to protect themselves and others, as Drake demonstrated one day when he caught Millicent Bulstrode threatening a first- year Ravenclaw student named Mercy Hawkins.

Drake was coming out of his Transfiguration class when he heard the sound of  
someone crying. Instinctively, he drew his wand. Then he walked swiftly and utterly silently around the corner of the hallway. There he saw Millicent Bulstrode, a big hulking girl, towering over a small blond-haired child.

"B-But I don't want to give you all of my gingerbread cakes!" Mercy was sobbing.  
"My mum sent them special for me for Christmas! Why can't you just take _half_ of them?" Two huge tears rolled down her face. She clutched a small white box to her chest.

Millicent grinned nastily. "Listen, crybaby. You give me all of them right now, or I'll  
put a hex on you so that your own mum won't recognize you, got me?" she leaned in and grabbed the girl by the front of her robes, shaking her.

Mercy started to cry even harder.

Drake felt himself explode with anger. He recalled only too well all the times he'd  
been at Millicent's or some other bully's mercy, unable to defend himself. He took several calming breaths, centering himself so he could speak properly.

"Leave the kid alone, Bulstrode."

Millicent whirled, one hand still on the younger girl, her other had her wand out.  
"What?" she relaxed when she saw who it was. "Oh, it's only you, Ducky. Why don't you run along and play with all your reject friends? This doesn't concern you."

"Yes, it does," Drake stepped forward, wand raised. He glared at Millicent warningly.

"I _said _mind your own business, Ducky! Before I give you a duck bill to go with your  
duck brain."

"I don't think so," Drake hissed, his eyes narrowed in concentration. "The name's  
_Drake_, Bulstrode. _Insectsortia!" _There was a flash of light from his wand. Then Millicent was covered in all kinds of  
creepy crawling insects.

"Ahhh! Get them OFF me! Get them OFF!" She was waving her wand frantically and  
jumping up and down, screaming. She ran up the corridor, still screeching.

Mercy Hawkins gazed at Drake in awe. "Wow! That was the best spell I ever saw!"

Drake smiled at her. "She won' t be bothering you again. Why don't you go and put  
those cakes away in your room?"

"I will. Thanks! My name's Mercy."

"Drake Lockwood." He watched her go down the corridor, then followed at a discreet  
distance, making sure none of Millicent's friends were lying in wait for her.

Soon Brittany Marsh and her band of Slytherins found it hard to target their usual  
victims, thanks to Drake's intelligence gathering. He found out all of the gang's schedules and listened to them talk about who they were going to extort next. He in turn passed this information on to one of the other S. R.'s, who used it to prevent Marsh or Hathaway from hurting their victim.

The younger first and second years soon found themselves with an S. R. escort to class, sometimes two or more, depending on who was nearest. Marsh's court soon learned not to underestimate Tricia, Kit, Drake, or Mel. The S. R.'s were faster to draw wands, knew more spells, and used teamwork to devastating effect. More than one of Marsh's band came out worst in a confrontation now, and they were soon wary whenever Arista or one of her friends showed up to watch over a younger wizard.

They were dangerous even without wands, a fact that Mel demonstrated ably on Jack  
Montague, who was threatening to hang Amber Blakely's cat up by its tail from a tree.

"Oy, Montague! Pick on someone your own size, you bloody crackhead!" Mel yelled  
at the Slytherin, who was holding the cat by the scruff of its neck and laughing.

"Don't hurt my kitty!" Amber wailed.

"He ain't gonna, kid." Mel said firmly. "Put the cat down, Montague."

"Or what? You gonna fall on me? Staggering Melly, laughingstock of the whole school. Clumsier than an elephant." Montague brayed.

Mel didn't waste any more time arguing. She brought her hand down in an overhand  
chop on Montague's wrist. He yelled and released the cat, who ran away and was chased by Amber.

"You Southwark hag, you nearly broke my wrist!" Montague snarled. He went to reach for his wand.

Mel reached out, grabbed his arm and tossed him over her shoulder. He landed on the ground with a thud. When he went to get up, she used a spinning kick and knocked him flat on his behind again. "Next time, pick on someone your own size, Montague! All right?"

Montague got up and ran away, limping and swearing.

"Huh. Kicked his arse." Mel said, dusting off her hands.

Of course, even with Drake's information, the S. R.'s couldn't be everywhere at once,  
especially since they were only five and Brittany and her gang were at least twice that number. So the Slytherin gang did manage to beat up or scare some students, but on the whole, most of them had learned that confronting one or more S.R.'s was not going to be pleasant for them. Nor did the S. R.'s win every skirmish, but those they lost were minor ones and they soon gained a reputation, mostly among the younger students, of protectors.

A month passed, and Arista went on the promised shopping trip with her father, who  
rewarded her for her good behavior by buying her the promised Fantastic Beasts Compendium.

"See? I _told _you I could do it, Dad."

Severus favored her with a rare smile. "This once, I'm happy to be proven wrong."  
Then he added, "Now don't spend all your time reading, Arista, and neglect your studies."

She rolled her eyes at his admonishment. "Dad, I _never_ do that."

"Just checking," he said and smirked at her.

She silently thanked God that he didn't know what else she was doing besides studying and reading.

All their battles were fought right under the noses of the teachers. Arista, mindful of  
Snape's warning, was very careful to never get caught fighting with another student. She and her friends had the reputation for being excellent students and she did not want that tarnished. Then too, the whole school was focused on the Triwizard Tournament.

Reporters, especially Rita Skeeter from the Prophet, were everywhere, trying to  
interview students. The whole thing about Arista being the Girl Who Healed was unearthed again, and she endured two interviews along with Neville, before she began spending half of her free time avoiding the reporters.

"Now I know why people call them newshounds," she groaned to Kit one day, when  
they were in the library studying. "Because they follow a trail until they find you. If I hear  
somebody mention the Longbottoms' miraculous recovery again, I'm going to start  
screaming."

Professor Snape soon put a stop to that, however. One morning, Arista rushed into his classroom gasping for breath, her books half-falling out of her bag.

"Arista! What on earth is going on?"

"Quick, are they coming?"

"They?"

"The reporters from the newspapers," she clarified. "I think they followed me down  
here. They keep asking me for details on the Longbottoms, Dad, and they won't accept what I've already given them. And then one of them mentioned Nightshade."

The Nightshade case was something that was kept very quiet, at the request of the U.S. Magical Association, and they almost never discussed it. Colin and Jenna had never put the real story in their official report to Hamilton, all the Department of Defense knew was that a Dark Hunter had killed Nightshade. They never knew that the Dark Hunter was Amelia Amarotti, returned from the dead one last time to save the lives of her child and her husband. That was one secret Arista, Severus, and the Flynns would take to their graves.

"Stay here," Severus ordered. "I'll take care of the vampire press." He strode to the  
door of the dungeon and stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, a forbidding glower on his face.

The first reporter came panting down the corridor, glasses askew on his spindly nose, camera banging on his chest. "Ah, Professor Snape! Was wondering if you could arrange an interview for me with your daughter, I'd like to discuss—"

"Absolutely nothing."

"Excuse me?"

"My daughter is no longer available for interviews. She is too busy studying for final  
exams, and I'm going to ask you once and only once to leave her alone. She has told you all you need to know about the Longbottom affair. Now get out of my dungeon, you're disrupting my class."

"But sir!"

"Out! _Now_. Or I won't be responsible for the consequences." Snape growled, giving  
the man his meanest glare.

The reporter quickly decided discretion was the better part of valor, and turned and ran out of the dungeon hastily.

**A/N: So what do you think of the SR's and their new skill? And you'll see how they use it next chapter against an insane monster.**


	21. A Giant Problem

**A Giant Problem**

﻿Final exams came, and Arista, Mel, Tricia, and Drake received A's in all of their  
subjects. Kit also did well, though in Transfiguration he only received a C. But he was  
ecstatic. "Hallelujah! A C! It's a beautiful thing," he crowed, waving his Transfiguration exam about excitedly.

Tricia was eyeing him oddly. "You're _happy_ you got a C?"

"Damn right! I passed, didn't I? My dad can't confiscate my Nimbus 2000 or ship me  
off to some wizard military academy."

"There really is such a thing?" Tricia asked. "I thought that was a myth."

"Well, if there is one, my father would find it and send me to it." Kit said, then grinned  
from ear to ear. "Except now he can't and I don't care! Yeah, I know all you brains think I'm bonkers, getting all excited over a C. If Mel or you got a C you'd be crying and Snape'd have a heart attack right here. But me, I am lovin' life!"

Drake came over to sit with them, carrying a plate of food. "What's up with_ him_?" he  
asked, jerking his head at Kit.

"He passed his Transfiguration exam. Got a C." Arista informed him.

"Oh. That's good. For him, I mean. My parents would have a canary if I came home  
with less than a B in anything." Drake admitted.

"So would all of ours." Mel laughed. "If I ever came home with a C, my aunt would  
keel over right in the middle of her rutabagas. And Lord only knows what Professor Snape would do if you came home with a C, Arista."

"Ground me for life, probably. And I'd never hear the end of it, either."

"My mum would have a fit, that's for sure," Tricia put in. "Even though C's were  
probably all she ever earned in school. She was more concerned with her modeling career." Her mother was a former model for wizarding magazines, her parents were divorced, they'd separated when Tricia was two. "Dad couldn't take living with her anymore, I guess. Not many people can. She's very demanding."

From what she had told them, Tricia's mother was very upset that her only daughter  
wasn't concerned with fashion and refused to make the most of her looks. She was always nagging her daughter to lose weight. Tricia's one act of rebellion was to eat for comfort. But lately, due to Arista's self-defense lessons and the fact that she was happy at school with friends, Tricia started to lose weight. She was now about half her size and some of the boys were beginning to notice her.

"Now we have to think about what we're going to wear for the Yule Ball," said Tricia  
brightly. "Have either of you gotten anything yet?" she asked the two girls.

"With all the studying we've had to do, who has time to shop?" Arista said._ And then  
I have to think about getting a date. Heaven help me, but what boy is going to ask me out with my father? All he has to do is look at the poor guy and he'll pass out. I might just have to end up going with Comfrey,_ she thought glumly.

"Not me. Haven't even thought about it, Greenbough. Guess I'll have to hit the folks  
up for a loan, though, if I'm to get anything decent," Mel said philosophically.

"How about you gentlemen? Are you going to dance at the Ball or just sit and watch?"  
Arista inquired with a mischievous grin.

Kit shrugged. "I'll dance, I don't mind it. Although those dance lessons of McGonagall's were hell on earth."

"That awful music," Drake choked. "It was stuff my parents used to listen to. They'd  
better not play any of it at the Ball."

"And will _you_ be dancing with any girl, Mr. Lockwood?" teased Mel gently.

"I will, if the right one asks me," was all Drake replied.

The three girls exchanged glances, mystified.

Suddenly, there came a resounding THUD from somewhere beyond the castle. Several suits of armor fell over with a clatter and Peeves the poltergeist began howling loudly. "Fee Fi Fo Fum, a giant's come!"

Kit frowned. "What's he babbling about?"

"Who knows?" Drake said. "He just likes to yell things."

Peeves continued to sing his giant song while swooping about the tables knocking  
things over.

Another huge thud shook the castle. "I don't like the sound of that," whispered Tricia.

"What in blue blazes _is_ that?" asked Mel, glancing uneasily towards the doors.

"Trouble," Arista answered.

Just then the doors to the entrance hall burst open and crowds of students raced in,  
screaming and yelling. Arista felt her head throb as the emotions of too many frightened people pressed against her shields.

"Run for your lives!"

"It's gonna eat us!"

"It's insane! Came right up through the woods, carrying a club with huge iron spikes  
and all!" panted a boy.

"What is it?" Kit called to a passing student. "A mountain troll?"

"Hell, no! It's a bloody _giant!"_ answered the student.

"A giant? But they live in the mountains, don't they?" Arista asked. "Far away from here."

"Well, _this_ one's decided to move to Hogwarts," gasped Brittany Marsh, her hair falling  
all over the side of her face, her robes disheveled.

"It's gone mad!" cried Hathaway, pale and shaking. "It keeps bellowing something  
about wizards and killing."

"We were coming from the greenhouse and it took two huge steps and nearly squashed us," sobbed a first-year girl. "I want to go home!"

Arista was sitting quietly with her head in her hands, for all of the fear and panic in the  
hall was making her head feel as if it were going to explode. She kept her shields tightly locked down, trying to take some deep breaths and find her center. Then, through all of the extraneous emotions, she heard a silent scream. It was a shriek of mortal peril and it pierced all of her shields, echoing through her mind like the cry of a banshee.

"Damn! Damn!" she swore, springing to her feet. Someone was out there, alone  
and terrified, and she could not ignore that desperate mental cry for help. "Let's go!" she called to the S. R.'s.

"Arista! What are you _doing_?" cried Mel, as she watched her friend racing towards the  
entrance hall.

"Hurry up!" Arista shouted over her shoulder.

"Hurry _up_! Is she _mental_?" Kit gaped. "There's a giant rampaging out there and she's  
running _toward_ it. Will somebody please tell me what's wrong with this picture?"

"Figure it out later!" Drake barked, also getting to his feet. "You aren't g-gonna just  
sit here and let her go alone?"

"Yes, I am! I don't want to die at age fourteen," Kit said.

"Move, Ambrosius!" Drake snapped, grabbing Kit by his collar and dragging him off  
his chair.

"You're both mental, Lockwood!" Kit was white-faced, but he followed Drake, Mel,  
and Tricia after the racing figure of Arista Snape.

"She's trying to save somebody, I think!" panted Tricia.

"Great! Just great! Arista to the rescue! We go save somebody, but who's gonna save  
_us_?" Kit demanded, taking his wand out.

They slid to a stop in the courtyard, transfixed in horror by the huge giant standing just  
beyond, a club the size of a bus in its fist. The club had already smashed into several of the stone statues, knocking them over like ninepins. Debris was scattered all over the courtyard.

The giant itself was at least fourteen feet tall, with wild grayish black hair, one huge  
bloodshot eye, the other was missing, a crooked nose and a mouth full of yellowed teeth. It had grayish skin which was as tough as mountain stone and it wore a kind of kilt and a leather baldric about its waist with a knife in it the size of a sword.

"WIZARDS! COME OUT! TORAK FIGHT YOU! KILL YOU DEAD!"

"There! You see, definitely crazy!" Kit babbled. "Says he's gonna kill us dead. And he _will_ too, if we keep standing here."

Arista ignored him, instead running towards a large statue of a griffin that had been  
knocked over. On the far side of it was little Mercy Hawkins, sobbing hysterically. The statue had fallen just as she was going past it, nearly crushing her. She had been knocked down and hurt her knee when she had fallen. The pain of her wrenched knee and her terror at the approach of the giant had combined to make her freeze, unable to move away to safety. And nobody heard her panicked screams over the giant's repeated challenges.

Nobody except Arista.

She crouched down beside the terrified child. "Are you hurt?"

"M-my knee! I can't walk!" sobbed Mercy. "The giant's gonna kill us!"

"Shhh. It's okay," Arista soothed, projecting a bubble of calm about the little girl. "I  
can fix your knee, just give me a minute." She placed her hand on the child's knee, which was already swollen to three times its size. Then she released her healing gift.

White fire flowed through her and into Mercy's knee, repairing the sprained and torn  
tendons and cartilage. In a moment it was all over and she picked up Mercy and carried her out from the shadow of the griffin.

"WIZARDS! COME OUT!" the giant rumbled, smashing his club against the ground  
for emphasis.

Chips of stone and dirt flew everywhere. Mercy screamed. Arista set the girl down  
near the entrance to the castle and said, "Go, run inside where it's safe."

"What about you?"

"Don't worry. Just go!"

Mercy turned and ran away, slipping inside the castle.

"Let's get out of here!" Kit cried.

Before they could move, though, the giant did. Its massive foot extended and nearly  
came down on Tricia's head.

Only Kit's quick grab and roll saved her. They rolled to the right, out of the giant's  
path.

"Bloody hell, watch where you're walking!" Mel screamed, shaking her fist at the giant.

"Uh, Mel, I don't think it cares if it steps on us. We're like ants." Arista panted.

"H-how do we stop this thing?" asked Drake.

"We Stun it." Kit said, helping Tricia up from the ground. They were both covered in  
dust and dirt, and Kit's cheek was bleeding where a sharp stone fragment had cut it.

"Good idea, Ambrosius," Arista said. She took out her wand. Then she let down her  
shields just enough to link with her friends.

"This had better work," she heard Mel mutter.

They had practiced the Stunning spell before, but only on trees, and they'd never  
Stunned anything the size of the giant.

"Ready? One. Two. Three. STUPEFY!"

Five beams of red light shot out of their wands and combined into one large ray of  
blood red force.

It smashed into the giant and knocked it back a pace or two. The red eye glared around, trying to see where the blow had come from. The club smashed down, and more of the courtyard cracked and broke.

The five backed away, trying to avoid being hit by the flying shards of rock.

"Uh, I think we just made it really mad!" cried Mel.

"Again! We hurt it," Arista ordered.

"How can you tell?" screamed Kit.

"I can feel its pain somewhat!" Arista shouted back. "Get ready."

"STUPEFY!"

Once again the combined powers of the five wizards streaked toward the giant. This  
time the blow made it stagger backwards, bellowing in fury and pain.

"That's got it!" yelled Drake. He was pale and unsteady on his feet, but he had his  
wand ready sooner than any of them.

"Once more." Arista cried.

Five wands pointed towards the behemoth.

"STUPEFY!"

This time the beam of red force knocked it to one knee. The courtyard shook as the  
giant landed on the ground. "KILL WIZARDS!"

"Tell us something we _don't _know!" Kit yelled, gasping for breath.

"Arista, I-I can't keep this up," wept Tricia.

"Me either," panted Mel. Her eyes were rolling up in her head.

Arista looked around at her friends in despair. They were exhausted from casting three magnified Stunning hexes in a row. And the giant was down, but not defeated.

_If I don't do something, we'll all die here. And I only have one last card to play_. She  
turned to her friends, who were staggering with weariness, out on their feet. She felt the exhaustion sweep through her as well, but she forced herself to ignore it. "Cut loose! Go back to the castle. I'll handle it from here."

"You'll WHAT?" Drake screamed.

"Just do as I say!" she howled. Then she reached under her robes for the bronze dragon scale she wore on a chain next to her locket.

The dragon scale had been a parting gift from Fireflash. It had magical properties, like all dragon scales, but this one had been enchanted by Fireflash to hold a special spell called Dragonshape. When held in the wizard's hand and cast properly, the scale would transform the holder into a bronze dragon for short periods of time. Arista had practiced with the scale before she'd come to school, back in the glen under Severus's watchful eye.

He had made her promise on her mother's grave that she would never use the scale  
unless it was a dire emergency.

_I think this qualifies, Dad!_ She thought, gripping the scale hard. She tucked her wand  
into a pocket and gestured with her free hand, levitating herself up into the air. She would need the height for this transformation.

"_Draco familiaris imperialis_!"

The scale began to glow a brilliant golden color. She allowed the golden light to  
envelop her, changing her, molding her into a creature of air and fire, with wings that could soar to the highest heights and claws sharp as ten swords and breath that was death if she wished it to be.

Arista the Dragon gazed down at the castle below her, her dragon's eyes seeing the four tiny figures running for safety as quickly as they could. She bared her teeth in a dragon's grin. Then she focused on her enemy, who was once more on his feet. From above, the giant didn't look quite so formidable, especially not to a bronze dragon.

Arista flew down lower, to hover just over the giant's lice ridden head. "Hey, Ugly!  
Up here!" she called, waving her tufted red tail tauntingly.

The giant looked up. "Huh?" His one eye blinked stupidly.

Then he realized what he was seeing and cried out in anger and terror. He swung his  
club at Arista, but she dodged the swipe easily. There were few things more maneuverable in the air than a bronze dragon.

She lashed back with her tail, clubbing the giant on the side of the head. "Go home,  
Ugly! The wizards don't want to play today."

The giant was spun halfway around by the force of her blow. "KILL WIZARDS."

"Not on _my_ watch!" the Arista Dragon snorted. Gotta get some altitude for this next  
maneuver. Fireflash always said altitude is vital to a dive.

She began to beat her wings hard, climbing rapidly upwards into the sky. When she  
judged she was about three hundred feet up, she spun her head down, closed her wings, and extended all of her talons, front and back.

She fell like a fiery comet from the heavens, a thunderbolt of vengeance on dragon  
wings.

The wind screamed in her ears in a joyous rush and she focused, like a falcon, on her prey, which was staring about in confusion.

She hit the giant with all the force of her body behind the blow, her talons digging deep into the gray hide, ripping great furrows in its shoulders, neck, and head. Blood spurted from it, and it bellowed in agony.

But it was not mortally wounded, even though it should have been. _A strike like that  
should have killed it. Why isn't it dead?_ Then she recalled something she had read in her new Fantastic Beasts compendium.

Some giants still bore some of the old magic in them. They drew strength from the  
earth and as long as they were touching it, they would not die.

_Of course, this one would HAVE to be one of those Figures. Now what do I do?_

The Durmstrang ship bobbed on the waves of the Black Lake.

_The lake! Of course! If the giant's in the lake, I can kill it with my talons or my fire. _She fastened all of her clawed feet on the giant and began to beat her wings harder. Straining every muscle in her shining body, she picked the giant up from the ground and flew up with it dangling from her claws.

_This is harder than I thought! Come on, Arista, you're almost there._ Her wings  
burning with the effort of hauling some eight hundred pounds of struggling giant across to the lake, she flew slower than she would have liked.

But at last they were over the drop zone and she opened her talons and let the giant fall into the lake.

The resounding tidal wave nearly sunk the Durmstrang ship. The giant plunged into  
the water like a rock, but then it started trying to get out, splashing frantically.

Arista hovered, then dove on the giant again. This time her talons scored and the big  
creature bled from true wounds. A sudden inspiration hit and she struck the water with her tail. "Amlioranee!" she cried, calling on the mermaid whose life she had saved that stormy night.

_The blessings of the sea be upon you, Potion Master's daughter. If ever you have need of me, touch the water and speak my name. _  
"You called, Arista Snape?"

The mermaid arced out of the water.

"I need your help. I need you to keep this giant in the lake, it's trying to kill us."

Amlioranee cast a contemptuous glance at the giant. "As you wish. I am the Water  
Mistress." She began to spin in a circle, singing in some strange liquid tongue.

The water of the Black Lake began to swirl in time to the mermaid's song, coiling  
faster and faster, sucking the giant down.

Arista drew back her head and sucked in a great lungful of air. Then she released it in  
one quick burst.

Fire spurted from her mouth in one long stream, hotter than any volcano. It coated the  
giant with flickering bluish white flames. The giant died soundlessly, its voice burned away by the dragonfire. It sank beneath the waters of the lake, the mermaid's whirlpool dragging it down to the depths.

"Thanks for the assist, Amlioranee."

"Anytime, Arista Snape." The mermaid Water Mistress waved in farewell, then dived  
beneath the water.

Arista turned her weary aching wings towards the shore, landing lightly beside the lake. She was too tired to fly back to the castle at the moment, and she quickly released the Dragonshape spell. One minute she was a dragon, the next she was a girl again.

An utterly exhausted girl who could barely manage to keep herself in a sitting position. Her head felt too heavy for her body, and she rested her chin on her chest. She had no idea how long the fight with the giant had taken, but she had a feeling it had not been very long.

Otherwise the adults would have come out to help. She squinted blearily. Yes, here  
they came now. She saw Dumbledore in his purple wizard robes, white beard blowing in the wind. And next to him was her father, his face pale with something she thought might be fear or shock. Behind them came Professor McGonagall.

Severus reached her first, throwing himself down beside her. "Arista! Talk to me! Are  
you hurt?" his voice was rough with fear.

She blinked, looked up into his face. "No. It never touched me. I used the dragon  
scale."

Severus was torn between hugging her and shaking her until her teeth rattled. He did  
a combination of both, giving her a slight shake and then drawing her against him. "You used the dragon scale," he repeated. "Good God, are you _trying _to give me heart failure, young lady? There's absolute pandemonium in the castle and where are you? Safe inside? No, you're _out here_ fighting a creature that could have smashed you flat."

"I had to do _something_. Mercy Hawkins was trapped in the courtyard, she needed my  
healing talent."

"The _something_ you should have been doing was calling for help, not challenging it in  
Dragonshape like some bloody comic book hero! D'you want to _die_ before you're sixteen?"

"You're overreacting, Dad. I'm not even scratched."

"You can barely move, so don't give me the I'm fine speech, young lady. Next time  
you'll tell me you're fine and half your entrails will be hanging out." He lifted her into his arms and began to walk back towards the castle. "If you keep this up, you're going to make me a raving lunatic by the time I'm thirty-six!"

"Where are we going?"

"_You're_ going to the Hospital Wing, so Poppy can check you out and make sure you  
aren't hurt," he answered.

"But I'm fine, Dad! I'm just tired. How about Mel and Drake and Kit and Tricia? Are  
they okay?"

"Yes. _They_ went back inside like sensible people," he said cuttingly.

"I can never do anything right, can I?" she said in a small voice. "I save my friends and  
everyone and all you do is yell at me."

"You nearly got yourself_ killed_!" he cried. Then he looked down at her and saw tears  
trickling down her cheeks. Remorse struck him then. "I'm sorry. Don't cry. You scared me half to death, don't you know that? Don't cry." He held her against him, his cheek resting on her head. "You are so much like your mother, always trying to do the impossible. I lost her because of it, and I don't . . .I _can't _lose you too, Arista. So please, for the love of heaven, don't do anything like this again. I don't want a dead hero for a daughter."

"Okay, I promise."

He sighed in relief. "Thank you for that." Then he continued walking towards the  
Hospital Wing.

Madam Pomfrey pronounced Arista as perfectly healthy except for exhaustion from  
overusing her powers. "She'll be right as rain with a few hours of sleep, Severus, so don't fret." She smiled down at Arista fondly. "You just lie here and get some rest, dear."

Arista was already falling asleep, and she dreamed she was flying again in  
Dragonshape. When she woke up, she found her bedside table was filled with flowers, candy of all kinds, and several cards. Some of the cards were from her friends, some from other Ravenclaws, but there were a fair number of cards from Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and even some Slytherins.

She felt a familiar weight on her feet and looked down to see Comfrey curled up at the  
foot of the bed. The lavender tinged gray cat opened one eye and purred loudly at her mistress.

"Hey, kitten. How'd you get in here? Cats aren't allowed, you know."

Comfrey flicked her tail, as if to say, cats go where they please, don't you know that?

Arista smiled, letting her shields down a bit so she could absorb more of the cat's  
peaceful aura. She caught a picture from the cat, of a man in a black robe gently putting her on the bed. "Dad put you here, didn't he? That was sweet of him. Cats are the best medicine."

Comfrey purred in agreement. Then she settled down into the blanket atop Arista's feet and went to sleep.

Arista was still tired, so she fell back asleep too. The next time she woke it was broad  
daylight and besides her cat, her friends were also there, sitting around in chairs, talking quietly.

"Hey, look who's awake!" exclaimed Mel. "Have a nice rest, Sleeping Beauty?"

"Wonderful. How long have you been here?"

"Since this morning. We refused to leave until you woke up, told Pomfrey she'd have  
to throw us out," Kit said, mischief in his eyes.

"So she let us stay," Drake chuckled.

"How are you feeling?" Tricia asked, a worried frown on her face.

"I'm okay. Just a bit tired."

"Yeah, well fighting a giant will do that to you," Kit laughed.

"And in Dragonshape too," Drake said quietly, a note of admiration in his voice.

"Where'd you ever learn that spell, Snape?" asked Mel.

"From a bronze dragon named Fireflash. He used to be my mother's partner." She  
explained about the dragon scale.

"We saw most of the fight from the windows," Drake said. "I'll never forget it."

"Neither will anyone else. We saw your father and Dumbledore and McGonagall run  
down to the lake afterwards." Mel continued, sitting on the edge of the bed. "So, has he grounded you for life?"

"Not yet. He's still on the I'm-so-glad-you're-alive stage. But I'm sure he'll get around to it."

"Well, _we_ all think you're incredible," said Tricia. "Actually, so does the whole school.  
Even the people from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang think you're pretty cool."

"Did anybody ever find out why that giant came here?" Arista asked.

"Not really, although Dumbledore thinks it was sent, by followers of You-Know-Who."  
Mel said in an undertone.

"Speaking of Dumbledore, he wants to see all of us in his office once you feel up to it," said Kit. "I hope he's not going to expel us or anything."

"Now why would he do a dumb thing like that?" Drake scowled. "_She _saved all of us  
from an insane giant and we helped her. We didn't break any rules, so there's no reason to expel us."

"He probably wants to discuss the way we combined our magic," said Arista. "We  
can't keep it a secret anymore, so now we have to tell them everything."

She reached up and took a Chocolate Frog from her nightstand. As she carefully  
opened the box, she waved her hand at the myriad of treats sitting there. "Hey, help yourself. I'll never be able to eat all of this, not in a month."

Her friends didn't have to be told twice. All of them grabbed something.

A few hours later, Arista and the rest of the S. R.'s were sitting in the Headmaster's  
office, explaining to Dumbledore and Snape how they had cast three Stunning Hexes  
magnified to five times their usual power.

"Then you and your friends have practiced this kind of magic before?" Dumbledore  
asked, eyeing them with interest over his half-moon glasses.

"Yes, sir. But the first time we did it was an accident. We were trying to see who  
could cast the quickest Shield Charm and by accident I linked with everyone and then our magic combined," Arista explained. Her friends had elected her as spokesperson, since she was the unofficial leader of their little group.

"And have you tried other spells besides the few you've mentioned?"

"No, because we didn't have time to experiment too much with our exams and all. And we can only combine our magic with spells we all know very well. We tried it once or twice with spells half of us know and it didn't work."

"I think the empathic link is the key, sir," said Mel quietly, speaking up for the first  
time. "Without that, well, we could all try until Doomsday to combine our magic and it  
wouldn't work."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I would say that theory is the correct one, wouldn't you  
agree, Severus?"

"Yes. Empaths can do things most of us can't, things that are often thought of as . .  
. impossible." He was seated off to the right of the Headmaster, observing the reactions of the five teenagers with something approaching wry amusement. All of them except his daughter were nervous, as if expecting something bad to happen, some unforeseen punishment for learning how to do magic in a new way.

Dumbledore steepled his fingers together on his desk, a sign that Severus knew meant he was thinking hard. He might look like a kindly old wizard, but the Potions Master knew he possessed one of the shrewdest and keenest minds of any wizard in the world.

"This newfound talent of yours to, um, what did you call it—combine magic—is a  
wonderful breakthrough for us," the Headmaster said at last, smiling gently at them. "I have always favored cooperation in magic as well as everyday life. This is the ultimate expression of trust and cooperation. You all should be very proud of yourselves. There are not many young wizards your age who would have been able to put aside differences in class and House to work together the way you have done."

The kids brightened beneath the older man's regard, sitting up straighter, pride coming into their eyes as they realized the truth of that statement.

"Well, it wasn't all that hard, considering we all had something in common,  
Headmaster," said Kit. Now that he was reasonably sure he wasn't going to be expelled, he felt comfortable enough to talk to Dumbledore.

"Oh? And what was that, Kit?"

"Well, we, uh, all were being targeted by a group of other students. You know, the  
popular kids, rich snobs who thought they were better than the rest of us. They would say things to us, do things to us, and well, one day we got tired of it and decided to do something about it."

"It was Arista's idea, really," Tricia continued at Kit's nod. "She said all of us together  
could accomplish more than each of us alone. Said that was a lesson she'd learned from her Dark Hunter teachers back in America. And we were all sick and tired of putting up with the popular kids' attitudes. Some of us had it worse than others," here she looked at Drake, who blushed and glanced away. "So we started hanging out together, helping each other, first with schoolwork and later Arista taught us some self-defense techniques she'd learned from Colin Flynn. And we discovered she was right, together we could accomplish anything."

"Once we started working as a team, we found that it was harder for certain people to  
do nasty things to us," Mel added. "One of us alone is an easy mark, but five of us all together, that's a different story."

"Most bullies w-will run if you give them a fight, so that's w-what we did," Drake put  
in. "And it worked. But we never used our combination magic on them, sir," he added, lest the Headmaster get the wrong idea. "It's too dangerous to use for something like that."

"Quite true, Drake. Quite true. I am pleased you all saw the danger in using such  
powerful magic. Most others would have been tempted by the power it represented and not hesitated to use it. You all display maturity beyond your years and restraint worthy of an adult. Indeed many adults would not have acted as wisely as you have. I for one, would like to see you demonstrate this combination magic."

"I would also, Headmaster," Severus said.

"We would be happy to show you," offered Arista. "The one bad thing about using it,  
though, is that it exhausts you twice as quickly as using magic normally."

"Does it? I would have thought the cost would be shared equally between you," Severus said.

"Well, maybe it is, because all of us were equally tired after casting the Stunning Hex."

"There is a price for everything, you know," said the Headmaster quietly. "Sometimes  
the greater the magic, the greater the sacrifice required. I can see many potential uses for this new magic, that it could be a good thing if used properly. However, I'm afraid that some other wizards might not see it that way. They would regard it as an invasion of privacy, for they would have to allow themselves to be touched by an empath in order to combine magic."

"But I'm not really sensing their emotions when I link with them, sir," Arista hastened  
to explain. "I open my mind and I let them touch me. It's kind of like when you hold hands with someone. Your fingers clasp another's, not tight enough to hurt, but just to hold on. That's what I'm doing, I'm not trying to enter their mind or anything. I would _never_ do that without asking first. That's the first thing an empath learns, how not to sense another's emotions. Another person's mind is sacred, you don't just go around entering people's minds whenever you feel like it, or projecting emotions onto them. At least you don't if you're a decent person."

"Most empaths are," Severus interjected. "The very nature of their gift makes them  
compassionate and considerate of others. Her mother was an empath of extraordinary talent, and she was the most compassionate woman I ever knew. You could tell her anything. But you're right, Headmaster. Most people would not believe me if I told them that, they are naturally suspicious of one who can see inside another's mind and heart. We have too many secrets inside of us, we lie to ourselves too easily, for most of us to be comfortable with allowing an empath access to our minds. Even for a brief instant, to perform magic that might be beneficial to all."

"I fear you are right, Severus. As I said before that level of trust is all too rare. So I  
think it best if we do not advertise the fact that you five can do this combination magic. It would raise too many questions, frighten too many people."

"Does that mean we can't ever use it again?" asked Mel sadly.

"No. In fact, I would like you to practice with it, to see what you can accomplish with  
it. I think someday soon it may prove to be very useful. But I want you to report anything you do to me or to Severus if I am unavailable. And you are not to discuss this with any other student, for now it must be kept secret. Are you all willing to do this?"

All five of them agreed.

"But what about the p-people who saw us cast those Stunning spells?" asked Drake.  
"How will we explain w-what they saw? Because you can tell that wasn't an ordinary Stunning Hex."

"We will try to avoid discussing it if possible. If necessary I will resort to a Memory  
Charm, though I would hope such would not be necessary." Dumbledore said.

"Most of the students were in a state of shock or panic while you were casting those,  
so I doubt any of them will remember clearly if they did see an ordinary Stunning Hex or not, Lockwood," commented Snape.

"But you w-would notice, sir."

"Yes, because I am trained to be observant. As is Professor Dumbledore. Others,  
however, are not, and they see only what they expect to see. Which is to your advantage. It is always easier to hide in plain sight, as I'm sure you know well," the Potions Master stated, eyeing the Slytherin boy knowingly.

A shared understanding passed between them, and Drake said, "Yes, I _do_ know that,  
sir."

"And now, I am sure all of you are hungry and would like something to eat,"  
Dumbledore announced. "So might I suggest we all go down to the Great Hall and have dinner? Oh, and one other thing. Because of your extraordinary courage and valor, I am awarding each of you fifty House points. I think you have more than earned them."

"That's for darn sure," Arista heard Mel mutter under her breath.

Then they all thanked the Headmaster and went down to the Great Hall, where the rest of the school was gathered. They were greeted by a resounding cheer and applause. Arista couldn't stop smiling. It would seem Snape's Rejects were no longer outcasts, thanks to the giant's arrival. And yet, she would not change the group's name, since it was a badge of honor, even if no one but she and her friends knew it.

**A/N: How was that battle? And no, this isn't the end yet. There's still Sev's first Christmas with Arista and the Yule Ball to come. Who will they end up going with? Only I know for sure. *smirks***


	22. Save the Last Dance

**Save the Last Dance**

**A/N: 1 Galleon is equal to approximately $5**

Severus decided he would take Arista home for the rest of the Christmas holiday until  
the Yule Ball. Arista therefore had to hurry up and pack, which she did with Mel's help. "You and Tricia need to come over so we can discuss what the heck we're wearing for the Ball. Oh, and you can borrow some of my shoes, my mom left me tons of them."

"Cool. But I don't think they'll fit my big feet."

"So we'll spell 'em to your size," Arista said, then hugged her. "I'll send you a letter  
with Nightfall inviting you over in a few days."

"See you soon," Mel said, hugging her back. "Hey, have you got a date for the Ball yet?"

"No. And I don't know if I ever will," Arista admitted.

"Why not? Half the guys in the school will probably want to go out with you now."

"No, they won't. Because none of them have the guts enough to talk to my father."

"Oh. Wait a minute, you mean a guy has to ask your dad's permission?"

"Yeah. He's old fashioned that way."

Mel cast her a look of utter sympathy. "Good luck then, Arista."

"Do _you_ have a date?"

"Um, Kit asked me last night," Mel admitted flushing. "I said yes."

"Good for you!" Arista said. "Do you know if Trish has anybody?"

"Nope. If she does, she never said."

The two friends bid each other goodbye and Arista levitated her trunk down to the  
entrance hall and sat down on it to wait for her father. Comfrey was curled in her carrier, drowsing.

She was thinking about finding a dress for the Ball when she looked up and found  
Drake at her elbow. "Oh! You scared me."

"Sorry. It's a habit," he said, referring to his soundless approach.

"Are you going home for the holidays?"

"Tomorrow. It's my little sister Trina's birthday. She's eight." He glanced down at his  
sneakers, chewing his lower lip nervously.

"Tell her Happy Birthday from me."

"I will." He didn't look at her.

She was puzzled by his behavior. "Drake? Is there, uh, something the matter?"

"No. I . . .it's just . . .well, I was w-wondering if you . . .did anybody ask you to the Ball yet?" he finally managed, inbetween pauses where he counted breaths.

"No. Why?"

There was a rather long pause. Finally he asked, "So . . .would you like to go with me then?" His gray eyes met hers.

"You're asking me out?" she repeated incredulously.

"Umm . . .yeah."

"Sure I'll go with you. Only . . .there's a bit of a problem."

He grinned at her. "I know. You don't have a dress."

"No, well, that's a problem too, just not the one I meant."

"Huh?"

"It's my dad."

"He won't let you go? Because of the giant?"

"No, he's not mad at me for that anymore. It's just that . . .this is going to sound stupid  
. . .but if you want to go with me, you have to ask his permission . . .he thinks we're still in the 1940's or whatever . . .If you don't want to go now, it's okay . . ."

"Arista, it's all right," Drake held up a hand. "Really. It's not a problem."

"It's not?" she gaped at him.

"Should it be?"

"Well . . .most guys wouldn't dare ask him for anything, especially not to take out his  
only daughter on a _date_, even if it is to a school dance. Not even if they were in Slytherin."

"I'm not most Slytherins," said Drake simply.

"No, you're not. He doesn't scare you."

"No reason why he should. I learned a long time ago, you only need to be scared of  
him if you misbehave. And asking his daughter to the Yule Ball ain't misbehaving, is it?"

She shook her head, giving him a gentle smile. A black trunk and several bags landed next to her, followed by a set of familiar footsteps. "Here's your chance. Go for it."

Drake squared his shoulders, drawing himself up to his full height. He seemed small next to the tall figure of the professor.

"Arista, are you all set?" Severus asked. "Because the Hogwarts Express is only running for a short time this afternoon."

"Yeah, I've got everything, Dad."

"Good." He glanced at Drake who was standing quietly beside him. "Hello, Lockwood. Was there something you needed to see me about?"

"Yes, sir." There was no hesitation in his manner now. He looked Professor Snape  
directly in the eyes and said softly, "I'd like to take Arista to the Ball. If that's okay with you, sir?"

Severus eyed the boy for a moment, considering. Drake did not look away, meeting  
his scrutiny steadily. _Finally, a kid with guts enough to stand up and ask to take my daughter out. And this one's respectful too, not like most boys his age_, he thought.

Arista was frozen on her trunk, her hands clasped together, not daring to look at them.  
Her lips moved in a silent prayer. _Please, Dad, please don't scare him away. He's the only date I'll ever get this late in the term and I'd really like to go with him. _  
Severus cleared his throat. "So, Drake, you want to take my daughter out to the Yule  
Ball?"

"I do, sir."

"Have you asked her yet?"

"Just now, sir."

"She said yes, I take it. All right, Mr. Lockwood, you can escort Arista to the Ball."  
Arista breathed again. Then she saw her father's eyes narrow in warning. "However, see that you treat her with respect, young man. Otherwise you'll answer to **me**."

Drake did not flinch. "Understood, sir."

Severus clapped him lightly on the shoulder, giving him a smile. "You'll do, Lockwood. And now, if you'll excuse us, we really have to be going. Have a nice Christmas."

"You too, sir." He turned to Arista. "See you at the Ball, Arista."

"Bye, Drake." Arista waved at him, then picked up Comfrey's carrier and followed her  
father out of the entrance hall, the trunks floating gracefully behind her.

* * * * * *  
After unpacking her trunk, Arista went downstairs to the kitchen to fix herself  
something to eat. There wasn't much in the pantry, since no one had been home to go grocery shopping. She found a jar of peanut butter and made herself a peanut butter and marshmallow fluff sandwich. Then she walked into the den, where Snape was rearranging papers on his desk in the alcove. "Dad, we need some food. And we desperately need Christmas decorations."

"Make a list," he said without looking up. "We'll go out in awhile and get whatever we need."

Arista snagged a quill from his desk and dug a scrap of paper from her pocket. "Where are we gonna get a tree a week before Christmas? All the good ones are taken."

"Hagrid's bringing it. I picked it out before we left Hogwarts." Severus said. "It should be here by tomorrow morning."

"Really? That's cool." She returned to writing down a list of food and decorations.

* * * * * *  
The tree was in a corner of the den, decorated with various glass balls, candy canes, and gold ribbons as well as twinkling red and green fairy lights. A crystal star shone with a soft rainbow light and the tree skirt was a dark green velvet with silver trim. The rest of the little house was decorated tastefully with holly and evergreen boughs twined with red ribbons above the fireplace and more ribbons and pinecones and little silver bells were twirled about the banister going up the stairs. A wreath hung on the door and the bushes in front of the walk had been draped with strings of popcorn and cranberries, Christmas decorations that were also food for the birds and squirrels.

Even Comfrey sported a new red velvet bow about her neck. The whole house smelled sweetly of evergreen and cinnamon and spices. Arista surveyed the tree from the kitchen, while absently snitching gingerbread cookies from a platter on thecounter.

"The tree looks great. Wonder how many presents I'll have under it?"

"None, if you don't quit eating all my cookies," Severus answered, removing a tray of  
gingerbread men from the oven.

She gave him an injured look. "What are you making them for, if I can't eat them?"

"I said you could have _some_, not the whole plate. The rest are for Christmas."

"But they're so good," she said, and grabbed another one when his back was turned.

"I saw that!" he said without turning around.

"How? You got eyes in the back of your head?"

"You bet I do, after thirteen years of teaching all you incorrigible brats." He turned  
around. "Go invite your friends over or something and let me cook in peace. Now get!" he ordered, giving her a swat with his spatula.

She whistled for Nightfall, Severus's tawny owl, and fastened two letters to the bird's  
leg. "Got a job for you, sweetie. Bring these to Mel and Tricia." She fed Nightfall a piece of ham. The owl chirruped and rubbed his head against her hand before flying out the open kitchen window.

Severus finished removing the last tray of gingerbread from the oven. He'd forgotten  
how much work they were to make, since he hadn't baked cookies in thirteen years. There had been no need to, since he spent all the holidays at the school.

Twenty-five minutes later the doorbell rang.

"Something smells absolutely divine," said Tricia, as she walked into the house followed by Mel.

"Dad's gingerbread cookies," Arista informed her, hanging their coats, scarves, and  
hats up on the coat rack. Then she led the way into the kitchen, where Severus had just begun to wash the dishes with a cleaning charm.

"Hello, Professor!" Mel said, sniffing appreciatively. The aroma of gingerbread was  
heavy in the air.

"Hello, Mel, Tricia," he greeted them. "Help yourself," he indicated the plate of gingerbread cookies.

Mel bit into her cookie and sighed. "Oh my God! This is the best gingerbread I've ever  
tasted."

Tricia agreed. "What spell did you use, Professor? Because I've never tasted anything  
like this."

"None," Severus answered, eating one himself. "I made them from scratch."

"Told you he could cook," Arista laughed at the girls' astonished expressions.

"And without magic too." Tricia said, taking another cookie.

"I never use magic when I cook. It doesn't taste right." The Potions Master said,  
getting some milk out of the fridge. _Looks like I haven't lost my touch_. He handed a glass to each of them.

"Maybe that's why my mother's cooking tastes like cardboard sometimes," remarked  
Mel, munching an arm off of her second gingerbread man.

"Probably. Conjured food never tastes as good as homemade." Arista quoted, making Severus smile.

After they had finished their snack, Arista took them upstairs to her bedroom to show  
them her shoe collection. Severus went into the den to look at the copy of _Potions Weekly _that had just arrived in the mail that morning. The fire was crackling merrily and the lights from the tree sparkled, reflecting off the array of pretty glass bottles on the mantle.

Snape settled in his recliner, flipping through the magazine. Nightfall perched on the  
back of his chair, nibbling the buttered toast square he'd been given as a reward for delivering the letters earlier. The Potions Master idly reached up a finger to scratch the bird's chest, while he scanned the articles on various kinds of drafts and solutions.

It felt good to be home, especially now that Arista was here. His house had not felt like much of a home at all since Amelia had died, simply a place where he went when he wasn't teaching. But now it did. It was too bad Amelia wasn't here to share it with him.

There was an interesting article on a new sleeping draft that he began to read. Lately,  
he'd been having trouble sleeping again, and the brand of the Death Eaters, which was usually invisible, had begun to darken and burn. He swore softly, for he knew well what that portended. Soon he would have to resume his spying for the Order of the Phoenix, for when Voldemort returned they must be prepared. He only prayed he could keep Arista safe during the dark times that were sure to follow.

But not just yet, he thought lazily. Right then all he wanted was to enjoy the first  
holiday he'd ever had with his daughter. That took priority over his secret agenda for now.

Suddenly, there came the sounds of teenage girls laughing, shrieking, and giggling.  
Several loud thumps followed, as if they were falling off of the bed or something. Nightfall woke up from his nap and hooted softly in irritation, then tucked his headback under his wing.

"What the blazes is going on up there?" he asked the owl. More giggling could be heard. "On second thought, I don't want to know."

He turned back to his article.

An excited squeal drifted down the stairs. "Look at this! Pradas! Oh my _God_! Snape's  
got _Pradas_!"

"No way! Let me see those!"

"What about these? Black Coach boots! They'll go smashing with my black skirt, don't  
you think? I want_ these_!"

_Take them, please! Take them all, she's got a dozen more pairs just like them_. He  
winced as the squeals rose into a register unheard of to the human ear. _Oh, the joys of having a teenage girl. God help me, I think I'm going to go deaf. _He tried in vain to concentrate on his magazine.

"Where's my wand, dammit? These are too tight."

"Hey, I was trying those on! The green Candelabras. Don't take them away."

Snape wished someone would take _him_ away. Far away, to a deserted island. "Is it  
really necessary for them to scream so _loud_? They're only shoes, for Godsake, not the Crown Jewels."

He could feel his head beginning to throb. _And I have HOW many more years of this?_

The ceiling shook in time to the girls' footsteps. "What the hell are they doing now—having a bloody parade?"

Comfrey shot down the stairs, her fur standing on end. She sprang up on his lap,  
huddling in a ball, a nervous wreck. He began to stroke her gently. "Couldn't take it, huh? I don't blame you. Sounds like the Charge of the damn Light Brigade up there. And that's with only _three_ of them. Could you imagine what it would be like with _more_?" Comfrey mewed, and rubbed against his hand. "You're right. I won't even go there."

The squeals subsided and he breathed a sigh of relief. Now he had only half of a  
migraine. "Tomorrow we're having a shoe sale, I swear it. I refuse to go through this every time her friends come over. Or better yet, let her go over _their_ house, that way their parents can deal with this insanity. _They're_ probably used to it."

Comfrey began to purr, and gradually Snape's frazzled nerves were soothed and  
calmed. He began to re-read his article for the thirtieth time.

Had Snape ventured upstairs to Arista's bedroom at that moment, he would have had  
a stroke. Dozens of pairs of shoes of every description, color, brand (Muggle and Wizard), and three different sizes covered the floor and exploded out of the closet. And they were only a portion of the Amarotti collection, all of which Arista had inherited. The rest were still in boxes in the closet. Arista had spent an entire two weeks over the summer organizing the shoes by season and color and occasion-i.e.—winter, black Gucci, dress shoes. Otherwise she'd never find anything.

The girls had used a summoning charm to call the shoes from their racks in the closet. Some of the odd sounds the professor had heard in the den were from three boxes of shoes hitting the floor at once. It was a teenage girl's shoe paradise. Arista had generously allowed her friends to choose three pairs of shoes each, one pair for the Yule Ball and the others for everyday around the school. And she had promised they could return in the summer and pick out some more.

Tricia and Mel went into transports. They were now sprawled across Arista's bed, their new acquisitions stacked neatly on the desk, though Mel was still wearing her new Coach sneakers, which had been altered by magic to fit her. All of them were studying the array of fashion magazines Tricia had brought from her house.

There were copies of _Witch Weekly, Teen Witches, The Sartorial Sorceress, and Spell- o-rama, _which wasn't only a fashion magazine, but had some hot pictures of teen wizard heartthrobs. Some of the giggling and squealing had been over a young wizard rock star called Zappo.

While they perused the fashion mags, they had also discussed their dates for the Ball (cause for more screaming, when they found out Drake had asked out Arista and Trish had snared Rowan Glendower, who was a Ravenclaw fifth-year and substitute Seeker for the House team).

"Oh, Bulstrode's gonna be _green _when you show up with Rowan," giggled Mel. "She's been after him for simply ages, practically ambushed him in the garden one day. You rule, Trish!"

Tricia grinned proudly. "And I didn't have to do anything. He asked _me_. I almost  
passed out right there in the corridor. I can't believe he actually noticed me with all Marsh's girls throwing themselves at him."

"Beauty's only skin deep. Class will win over it every time, if the guy's smart. And  
you're class to your fingertips, Tricia Greenbough," Arista said. "And you've a personality about you too."

Tricia beamed.

"I'll say. All Marsh and her maidens like to talk about is me, myself, and I," Mel  
added. "Who wants to have a conversation with a mirror?"

Trish sighed dreamily. "Not my Rowan. I feel like Cinderella." Then her eyes lit on  
a small blue oval disk covered in silver sparkles resting on Arista's nightstand. "A  
_spellophone_! Mel, she's got a spellophone! But they're brand new, how'd you ever find one? My mum tried to order me one from _Sophisticates and Spells_ and they were all sold out."

"That was a present from Remus Lupin. A thank-you for giving him my improved  
Wolfsbane Potion. It came two days ago. Dad has the ring component."

"Ooo I'm _so_ jealous!" Mel cried, picking up the little sparkling disk, which was about  
the size of a mirror compact and flipping it open.

The top part of the spellophone had two buttons on it, Send and Receive. The bottom  
portion was covered in a silvery gel, which hardened when not in use. They were all the rage this year. The spellophone was a communication device so parents and friends could keep in touch with the holder without resorting to cumbersome letters or Reminder Charms. It consisted of the ring component, which was a ring linked to the image disk. There were often two or three rings with a spellophone. When a person turned the ring around on his or her finger and spoke the disk holder's name, it activated the spell set in the disk and the person could talk to the holder just as if they were standing next to them, and vice versa. The image gel on the bottom of the disk would create a copy of the person's face when the ringer called and the ring had a small gel bubble on it as well so the disk holder could reply.

"How many rings did it come with?" Tricia asked, looking at the little disk with longing.

"Three, but Dad won't let me give them to you yet. He says we've got to field test it first."

"So what are we waiting for? Let's go field test it! We'll go dress shopping," Tricia  
said happily, jumping to her feet. "I think they're having a sale at the Witch Emporium today."

"Oh, I am_ so_ there!" cried Mel, grabbing her broom. "Good thing mum and dad gave me my allowance plus money for my dress this morning."

"I still have to ask for mine," Arista admitted. "He was baking, so I didn't have a  
chance." She tucked the spellophone in the pocket of her jeans.

"So let's go ask him," Mel said, starting to open the door.

Arista gestured and the door swung shut. "Hold it, girlfriend. You don't go anywhere  
until you help me clean up this mess. You got any idea how much trouble I'd be in if he came up here and saw this?" She gestured to the floor.

"Ye gods!" Mel yelped. "Hell hath no fury like Professor Snape." She drew her wand  
and spoke a neaten-up charm. Shoes began to fly into boxes and return to the closet.

Tricia pointed her wand at another section of the room. "I'll finish this while you two  
go and ask him," she volunteered. "I don't mind."

"Thanks!" Arista said, and released the locking charm on the door.

They found Severus in the recliner, halfway through_ Potions Weekly_, circling items  
with a quill. The cat was asleep on his knee and Nightfall was drowsing on his accustomed perch at the back. A goblet of cider and a half-bitten cookie were on the end table beside the recliner.

"Hey, Dad. The girls and I wanted to go shopping." Arista said, walking up to him.

He put a finger in the magazine and looked up. "_Not_ for shoes."

"Already got enough of those," she laughed. "I need a dress. You know, for the Ball."

"And we want to test the spellophone," Mel added, her eyes glowing.

"I figured as much." The ring component was on his right hand, a silver band with what looked like a moonstone cabochon. "So, how much are we talking here? One hundred Galleons?"

"Umm . . .well . . ." Arista looked helplessly at Mel. She had no clue how much a Ball  
dress cost.

Before Mel could say anything, Severus said, "Two hundred? Come on, I haven't got  
all day. Two fifty?"

"I guess two hundred's good," Arista began, and Mel elbowed her in the ribs hard.

"Two fifty sounds about right, Professor. Inflation, you know."

"Fine. You know where my key is, Arista." He took a shiny gold parchment from his  
pocket and signed it. "Here's a note for the goblin manager," He handed her a Gringott's bank note with the amount written in and signed on the bottom. Underage wizards couldn't make withdrawals from an account unless their name was on it, or had a bank note signed by their parent or guardian.

"Thanks, Dad. What time do you want us to come home?"

"I'll call you when dinner's ready," he said. "See if this ring really works the way Lupin said it would." He turned back to his magazine.

"See you later, Professor," Mel said, and dragged Arista out of the room. "Yo, Trish!  
We're ready to fly."

"Coming!"

Then Mel began pulling on her coat, saying in an undertone, "You bleeding cracked,  
girl? When a man offers you _two hundred and fifty_ Galleons, you _take_ it! You don't try and give it back, you twit!"

"But, Mel, does a dress really cost that much? I felt like I was ripping him off."

"Hey, _he_ offered. Besides, even if the dress doesn't cost all two fifty we can  
accessorize. Don't you know anything, Snape? You might be able to do brain surgery, but you sure as blazes don't know how to clothes shop. Good thing you've got me and Trish."

Tricia joined them a moment later. "_Two hundred and fifty Galleons_!" she repeated,  
her eyes bugging out. "We can buy top of the line with that. A dress that will blow even  
Brittany Marsh away. Can you adopt me?"

Arista picked up her broom. "Trish, Brittany's got more money than God. Her father's  
a bank _consultant_."

"Trust me. We're gonna blow her away, or my mum's not Glinda Greenbough." She  
was rubbing her hands eagerly. "Diagon Alley, look out, 'cause the S. R. girls are on the prowl."

"Mrrow!" Mel said and they flew out the door, laughing hysterically.

Severus heaved a sigh as the door shut. _Finally, some peace and quiet! It's a beautiful thing, the sound of silence. _

Three hours later, the spellophone chimed. Arista flipped it open and pressed the  
Receive button. Professor's Snape's face arose from the gel and said, "Hi, Arista. I've got dinner all ready, so come home now."

She hit Send and spoke into the disk. "Will do, Dad. Be home in seven. It works  
awesome, doesn't it? Love you, bye."

Her friends sighed in envy as she closed the silvery disk.

A teenage witch passing by with her mother saw it and gave a cry. "Mum! She's got  
a _spellophone_, no fair! I want one too."

"Ask your father, dear," was all her mother said, dragging her daughter away.

"C'mon, let's get out of here," Arista said, uneasy at the attention she was getting from most of the young girls on the street, who were staring at her with undisguised envy and loathing. She hopped on her broom.

"You said it, girlfriend." Tricia gave her a high five. "Our shopping trip was a brilliant  
success. And I'm starving!"

They arrived back at Spinner's End just as Severus was setting down the pan of lasagna and garlic bread.

Arista squealed in delight. "Yum! Lasagna! My favorite. Wait'll you taste this, it's an  
old Amarotti recipe. It's to die for."

"How was your shopping trip? Get everything you needed?" he asked, putting down  
a pitcher of iced tea with lemon on the kitchen table.

"Oh, yeah. It was great." Arista said, giving him a hug on her way to her chair.

"Wait'll you see the dress, Professor," Mel said. "It's a knockout."

"It's gonna knock Brittany dead," Tricia added gleefully.

Severus' eyes gleamed. "Good. About time someone took the little snot down a peg.  
Acts like she owns the whole universe."

"Why, Professor! She's a Slytherin," exclaimed Mel.

"So? Just because she's Slytherin doesn't mean I like her. She's also a spoiled rotten brat that needs a good spanking. Give her one, Arista."

"I will, Dad. Wait and see." Then she helped herself to a huge piece of lasagna.

* * * * * *  
They had decided to celebrate Christmas on Christmas Eve, since Christmas Day they had to travel back to Hogwarts for the Yule Ball. It had snowed, light powdery stuff that clung to all the trees and gates and lamp posts, making everything sparkle with an icy white glow.

Their Christmas feast was a small turkey with all the trimmings, another pan of lasagna, bread with honey butter, mugs of spiced cider and last but not least, a chocolate cream pie. They played a recording sent by Fireflash of the bronze dragon singing Christmas carols. It was better than anything on the WWN (Wireless Wizarding Network).

Arista kept casting longing glances at the pile of presents under the tree.

"Oh, go and open them," Severus relented after fifteen minutes of mute glances.

"Yes!" She beckoned him to follow her. "You've got some too, you know."

He leaned on the edge of the sofa, watching her, a contended smile on his face.

From Mel she got a blue leather journal and a new Everlast Eagle Quill, which was  
reputed to never run out of ink. The card attached read, _Now you can write down all those crazy ideas in your head, girlfriend. Merry Christmas! Love, Mel. _From Tricia there was a subscription to Healer's Digest. Kit sent her a box of Chocolate Frogs. Drake gave her a certificate for 10 Galleons to Flourish and Blotts. "Awesome! There's a new book coming out that I want."

"There always is," Severus laughed. "And these are from me." He pointed his wand.  
"Accio!" Three brightly wrapped boxes appeared at her feet.

She tore open the largest. "_Galen's Concise Medical Encyclopedia and Veterinary  
Handbook! _I've been wanting this for months. Thanks so much!"

"You're welcome. Go on, open the other two."

The next gift was a pretty crystal bottle of perfume. She opened it and inhaled the  
sweet fragrance of lemon blossom, a touch of honey, and wild berries. "Beautiful! I'll use this tomorrow night." She examined the box to see who had made it. "What store made this? I don't see a label."

"You're looking at him."

"You made this? For me?" she stared up at him. "That's so awesome, Dad!" She  
dabbed some on her wrists. "Does it have a name?"

"I called it _Mystic Touch_," he answered. "For my healer daughter."

"You're the best, Dad." She grinned at him. Then she opened the last box, it was small, wrapped in green and gold tissue. Inside were a dainty pair of gold heart-shaped earrings with miniature phoenixes engraved upon them. "Oh! They match my locket! I love them!"

"I figured you'd need something to wear for the Ball," he said, his eyes twinkling.

"That's what you were doing all those nights in your lab," she cried, then jumped up  
and hugged him. "I love you, Dad."

"Love you too," he said.

She snapped her fingers and two silver and green packages appeared on the couch.  
"Merry Christmas, Dad."

"What's this?"

"Presents! Open them!" she was practically jumping up and down.

The first one was a huge book of all kinds of rare potion recipes, _The Potion Master's  
Bible: A Guide to Rare and Unusual and Expert Potions. _"_Where_ did you find this? Bosworth sold his last copy weeks ago."

"To me. Like it?"

"You know I do. Thank you."

"Open the next one. It's even better," she urged.

She watched impatiently as he unwrapped the flat square package.

For a moment he could do nothing but stare at it. It was a large portrait of the original  
photo taken by Fireflash in the glen. A much younger Severus Snape was holding Amelia and smiling at her, and she was laughing up at him. The frame was a burnished cherry wood with a brass plate on it that read: _Severus and Amelia Summer, 1980. _  
"I figured you could, uh, hang it in here, above the fireplace. So then you could look  
at her whenever you wanted," Arista said, uncertainty creeping into her voice. "Don't you like it?"

"I . . ." for one minute he could not find his voice. "It's perfect," he managed to say,  
blinking rapidly. His vision blurred with tears. He looked up at the empty spot on the wall above the mantle. "Let's put it up where it belongs."

He gestured and the portrait zoomed up and hung itself on the wall. "Merry Christmas, Amelia, my love," he whispered. Two tears trickled down his cheeks. He quickly wiped a hand across his eyes. _It's just a picture, Snape, no need to get all emotional over it_, he scolded himself gently.

Arista came and put her arm around him, leaning her head on his shoulder. "She was really beautiful, wasn't she?"

"Yes. In every way possible. But so's her daughter. Never doubt that, Arista."He  
smiled down at her. "I know I don't say this enough, but I'm proud of you, Arista. You are such an accomplished magician and you remind me so much of your mother, which is the highest compliment I can give you. She would be proud of you too."Arista was so moved she couldn't talk, so she simply settled for hugging him tighter and projecting her own feelings of love and happiness at him. They remained that way for several minutes, looking up at the portrait of the auburn-haired woman that had made the impossible possible, bringing hope and love to a lonely wizard so long ago.

Just then there came a loud BANG. "What was that?" Arista cried, jumping like a  
startled deer. "It sounded like it was coming from outside."

There came a soft hoot, repeated two times.

"That's the Express Post. Must be Jenna and Colin's Christmas present for you," her  
father said, going to open the door. "They did send me a letter saying it was coming."

"It got here early then," Arista said, following him.

They threw open the door to find a large box on the porch. A huge red bow was atop  
it, and tied on with twine was a small scroll. Two eagle owls were perched on it, hooting quietly.

"Wow! What is it?"

"I don't have any idea," Severus admitted, feeding the eagle owls pieces of turkey as  
a thank you. They flew off into the night. "Why don't you read the note?"

Arista undid the scroll. "_To Arista and Severus Snape,  
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays from your favorite Dark Hunters in America.  
We hope you are all doing well and got lots of snow. Jenna and I are great, we're  
expecting a baby in about five months. Got any advice for me, Sev? I think I'm gonna need it. Fireflash says hi. Anyway, here's a gift for you and Arista. Remember when we had that conversation about magehounds over the summer, Severus? You told me you wanted to see one—" _  
"Flynn, you_ didn't_!" Severus groaned, putting two and two together. "Please tell me  
that's not what I think it is!"

"—_so we thought you'd like to adopt Scout. He's a retired magehound that worked  
on the New York force for twelve years and he needed a good home where people would appreciate him and love him. Magehounds are very intelligent and they live for about forty years, so you'll have him around to play with your grandchildren, Sev. We've sent along all of his things, just open the crate. Oh, and if you want him to track something for you just tell him Search! and show him a picture or an object and he'll find it. He once tracked a dark wizard across the Rockies, no joke. Have fun and Merry Christmas!_

Colin and Jenna   
"A _dog_! They got me a dog!" Arista was already kneeling down to undo the latch on  
the crate.

_Flynn, I'm going to throttle you! I said I wanted to SEE one, not own one._ "It's a damn  
conspiracy! Why don't we just hang out a sign—Snape's Animal Rescue—and be done with it?" he muttered, scowling at the wooden crate with its red bow.

"Come on, baby," his daughter was crooning. "Come out and see your new home. Come on, Scout."

"And let's hope he doesn't wreck the place," Snape grumbled.

A dark nose stuck itself out of the crate, sniffing eagerly. Then all at once a sleek  
golden hound emerged, shaking himself, his long ears flopping. He had huge blue eyes and resembled a foxhound. He gazed about him alertly.

"He's gorgeous! Hello, Scout!" Arista cried.

The magehound's tail began to wag. Then he barked and began to cover Arista's face in kisses. She threw her arms about the dog's neck. "Isn't he wonderful, Dad?"

Snape eyed the pair resignedly. "Just what I always wanted. A dog that lives for half  
a human lifetime. Thanks ever so much, Flynn."

"Aww, come on, Dad. He's a great dog. I mean, he's already housetrained and he  
probably knows all kinds of tricks and stuff, since he was a Hunter's partner." She released the dog, whose tail was still wagging. "Say hello to him, Dad."

Snape looked at the dog and rolled his eyes. To his surprise the dog sat down in front of him and offered up a paw. The Potions Master took it. "All right, I suppose you can stay. But let's get one thing straight, dog. I'm the boss here, not you. That means you do what I say when I say it. And the number one rule here is you leave my things alone. God help you if you chew my robes, my shoes, or my wand . . .I'll ship you right back across the ocean. And no begging at the table, or sleeping on my bed, or barking at two o'clock in the morning for no reason. . . are we clear on all that?" He knelt down to look the dog in the eye.

Scout looked right back at him. Then he barked and slurped his tongue across Snape's face.

The Potions Master grimaced. "What? You think I'll like you if you lick me to death?  
Fat chance. Make up to my daughter, not me." He wiped his face on his sleeve. Then he rose to his feet. "Some Christmas present. What's next? A cow and a horse in the backyard?" he went back inside, still grumbling.

Arista turned to gather Scout's food and dishes out of the crate. "Don't mind him. He  
just likes to complain, he never means half of it. Welcome home, Scout. You're gonna love it here."

She held open the door and the magehound walked sedately inside.

When she staggered in the door five minutes later, laden down with the dog's  
belongings, including food, dishes, leash, and chew bones, she found Scout eating leftover turkey and gravy in the kitchen.

Her father was watching the dog eat, frowning. "What were they feeding him over  
there, grass?"

Arista hid a grin and began rearranging the pantry to make room for Scout's food and  
treats. When she glanced up again, she saw that Scout was sitting down next to her father, who was petting the magehound's silken ears.

Drake Lockwood waited anxiously in the entrance hall, his eyes scanning the milling  
students, all of whom were waiting for the doors to the Great Hall to be thrown open at 8 o'clock, which was when the Ball would begin. He didn't see Arista anywhere. He fought back the urge to pace, instead playing idly with a sickle in his pocket, making it dance along the backs of his fingers, then flipping it up and catching it with his opposite hand. He was wearing a white dress shirt with a black tie and black trousers, mirror-finished shoes and black robes with deep green trim. His hair had been trimmed neatly for once about his ears and it was brushed back off his forehead.

"Hey, Drake! Looking sharp!" It was Mel, who was dressed in a smashing black and  
white number that accented her tall frame and long legs to perfection. Her normally wild curly hair was tamed and piled atop her head and she wore a strand of pearls about her neck and another bracelet on her wrist. On her feet were black Gucci heels.

"Mel," he breathed a sigh of relief. "You look great! Have you seen Arista anywhere?"

"Relax, Lockwood. She'll be along. She's just being fashionably late."

Drake gave her a blank look. "Huh? Why would she do that?"

"Beats me, mate," said Kit, coming up beside Mel. "Girls are strange, you ought to  
know that." He was dressed in the same white and black dress clothes as Drake, but he had a red tie and deep red robes with gold lions on them. His sandy hair had been slicked back with some kind of gel so it stayed away from his face. "I haven't see Trish yet either."

"There she is!" Mel pointed to where Trish was making her way across the room with  
her partner, the incomparable Rowan. "Doesn't she look fabulous?"

Drake and Kit whistled. For Tricia was wearing some kind of turquoise dress with a  
soft flowing white satin shawl that made her look slim and stunningly pretty. She had left her long blond hair loose and it flowed around her head like a halo. It had small fairy lights in it, blue and white ones. Around her neck was a silver star pendant and on her feet were white sandals, Witchfords.

"You know, I never noticed it before, but Trish is really pretty," Kit said.

Mel elbowed him in the ribs. "Hey, no ogling other guy's dates, Ambrosius. Even if  
she is my best friend."

Kit flushed. Then he looked at Mel and said sweetly, "But _you_ look like a million Galleons, Melinda Seton."

"Flatterer," Mel snorted, but Kit could tell she was pleased nevertheless.

Trish came up to them, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Hi, guys. You all look  
incredible." She introduced Rowan to them. Then while the boys were talking about  
Quidditch, she drew Mel off to one side and pointed across the way to where Brittany Marsh was standing, surrounded by her usual clique of Slytherin girls. "Check out the Marsh Queen and her court."

Brittany looked like she'd just stepped out of the pages of the _Sophisticated Sorceress. _The Slytherin girl had a long white sheath on accented with fox fur around the bodice and the hem. A belt that glittered with what Mel suspected were real diamonds was about her slim waist and she was wearing more diamonds on her throat and in her ears. She also was wearing several bracelets as well and her cape was pure white ermine with a silver serpent clasp. Her hair was, as always, sleek and coifed up in the latest style, she had dusted it with glitter.

Beside her stood James Hathaway, the king drone, in a white suit with green robes that probably came straight out of the _Wizarding Gentlemen_, the top men's fashion magazine.

"She reminds me of the Snow Queen," whispered Mel. "All ice-cold and mean as a  
frost serpent."

"Yeah, she looks good," Tricia admitted grudgingly. "But watch her melt when she  
sees Arista. Where is she, anyhow?"

"She should be here soon. Want me to call her spellophone?" Mel asked, looking up  
at the clock in the hall. It read 7:45. She twirled the ring on her left hand meaningfully.

"No, wait." Tricia reached out a hand and pointed towards the stairs leading to  
Ravenclaw Tower. "Look, here she comes now."

Heads turned and eyes widened and voices hushed as the girl came slowly down the stairs. Gone was the small auburn-haired waif in the black robes. In her place was a vision in royal blue that glided down the stairs wearing midnight blue Pradas.

Arista's dress was a royal blue sprinkled with tiny crystals that twinkled as they caught the light. It was made of soft silky material that clung and flowed, she had one arm bare and the other covered with a graceful sweep of a sleeve. Fastened to the back of her dress was a long gauzy stole, royal blue in color.

Her hair was a soft auburn cap on her head, a blaze of autumn color in the midst of  
December. Around her neck was the phoenix locket and on her ears were Severus's Christmas earrings. _Mystic Touch_ had been applied to her wrists and the back of her neck and her lips were tinged gently with a rose lip gloss. Her dark eyes glowed in the soft light, sparkling happily.

"Holy God, is that _Snape_?"

"Look at her!"

"Where did she get that _dress_?" a Beauxbaton's girl whispered.

"And those _shoes_!" murmured a Slytherin girl enviously.

"I want her jewelry. I've never seen anything like that before."

Half the boys were struck dumb, and Drake simply stared at her until Mel nudged him  
and hissed at him to quit gaping like an idiot.

Brittany and her crowd wore expressions ranging from disbelief to envy and the ice  
queen herself looked as if she wanted to gnash her teeth and burst into tears or scream. Her partner, Hathaway, couldn't take his eyes off Arista, he looked like a man that had just missed his last train to an important meeting, dazed and confused.

Arista crossed the hall and came right up to Drake. "Hi."

Drake opened his mouth, but nothing came out of it. He cleared his throat. "Wow!"  
Then he grinned. "Arista, you look . . .beautiful. Wow!"

She laughed. "Thanks. Sorry I was late. This stupid stole kept getting caught on my  
shoes. It's too long."

"It looks fine. Really." Drake reassured her.

The doors opened at that precise moment and the students began to file in, lining up  
along the aisle between the tables in pairs. Drake and Arista were among the last to enter, Drake escorting Arista with a hand on her arm. Whispered comments still flowed after them about how Arista looked in her royal blue dress.

As they passed Brittany and Hathaway, who were standing in the middle of the pairs,  
Brittany wearing an extremely sulky look on her face, Drake looked directly at Hathaway and said loudly, "Eat your heart out, Hathaway. Here's the prettiest girl in school and you aren't fit to shine her shoes. Merry Christmas."

Then he led Arista up the aisle to the front of the line, his head lifted proudly.

"Drake!" Arista hissed, blushing furiously. "How could you say that?"

"It's the truth." Drake said simply.

At the staff table, the teachers were looking at all the students as well. "Oh, Severus,  
your daughter looks beautiful," said Minerva softly. She was wearing a red and green tartan gown with a large thistle on her hat. "That dress is simply stunning on her."

_That's my girl_, Severus thought proudly. He was in black dress robes, a white shirt and black pants, a Slytherin crest pinned on his tie. He looked surprisingly handsome that night. "Thank you, Minerva. She looks just like her mother."

"But she's got your eyes, Severus. Those eyes that see everything," Dumbledore said  
kindly. "You should be very proud of her, she's a remarkable young lady. Like both of her parents."

"I am," Snape said, looking over at Drake and Arista fondly. _You're the very best thing  
in my life, Arista Snape. _  
Then Dumbledore gave a signal and everyone sat down to dinner. Everyone could  
order whatever you liked best for dinner tonight. Arista ordered lobster tails with drawn butter and rice pilaf. Drake had fillet mignon with mashed potatoes. Mel had lamb chops with russet potatoes and carrots. Kit ordered stuffed veal chops and salad. Tricia had chicken cordon bleu and green beans with almonds.

They ate hungrily, the food was very good. "Did you see Marsh's _face _when you went  
by, Arista?" Mel asked.

"Yeah. She looked like she'd just swallowed a whole cauldron of willowbark laced  
with Decongestion Draft."

"Absolutely pea-green!" Trish snickered. "Didn't I tell you? You blew her _away_!"

"Right back to the swamp where she belongs," Drake said.

"Thrashed her good and proper, you did, Snape," chuckled Mel wickedly.

"Serves her right," Kit laughed.

"I'll say," agreed Rowan, eating his roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. "Those other  
guys are all wishing they were us tonight. Because we've got the best girls in the room."

"Damn straight we do," Kit said enthusiastically, nearly knocking over his water glass.

Soon dinner was over and the dancing started. The four champions led the first dance, then the other students were invited to join in with their partners if they wished. Arista looked over at Drake inquiringly. "Do you want to dance? We don't have to."

"Why not?" He held out a hand.

She found he was a surprisingly good dancer, light on his feet and with a good ear for  
the tempo of the music. He guided her gently about the floor, his hands firm about her waist, but not groping.

"Hey, you're pretty good, Drake."

"Thanks." He flushed and said, very softly, "Don't ever tell anyone this Arista, but the  
reason I can dance is because my mother's a dance instructor. She used to do it professionally till she met my dad and had kids. She's been giving me lessons."

"Wow. No wonder you're good. What's your dad do?"

"He's a vet. Takes care of magical animals and stuff."

"Not R. A. Lockwood!" Arista gasped. "He wrote _Fantastic Beasts_ and _The Handbook  
of Veterinary Medicine." _  
"Yeah, that's him. Dr. Robin Alexander Lockwood."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

Drake shrugged. "I don't know. Too busy, I guess."

"You _have_ to see my new dog, then. He's a magehound from America, his name's  
Scout, and he's the most awesome dog ever." Arista told him.

"A _real_ magehound? But they all died out over here."

"I know. But Scout was a gift to me from my old teachers, Colin and Jenna."

"My dad would flip if he knew there was an honest to God _magehound_ here," Drake  
snickered.

"He should come and see Scout over the summer then."

"I'll tell him," said Drake.

They danced two more dances before Arista said she wanted to sit down for a bit. Once she was rested she took a turn on the floor with Kit, who was not as good a dancer as Drake, though he only stepped on her foot once. Then Neville approached her and asked if she wanted to dance with him. She agreed, though he was an even worse partner than Kit, and she feared her feet wouldn't survive.

"How's your parents?"

"Great. They said to tell you hi." Neville answered, flushing slightly. "We've moved  
out of my gran's house now. How was your Christmas?"

"It was really good. One of the best I've had," she said, then winced as he stepped on  
her foot. "Want to get something to drink? It's really hot in here."

"Sure." They walked back to the table, where there were pitchers of iced pumpkin juice and cranberry punch.

Neville, Drake, and Arista sat drinking punch and watching the other students and  
teachers dance, while Arista surreptitiously rubbed her sore feet under the table. They watched Brittany sail by with Hathaway, looking all smug.

"She dances like she's got a stick up her you know what," Drake muttered.

Arista and Neville nearly collapsed on the floor with laughter.

"Drake! My God!"

He gave her an innocent look. "What? It's true."

"The king snake shows his fangs," Arista chuckled.

Neville looked puzzled. "What's that? I don't understand."

"It's an inside joke," Arista told him. "Don't worry about it."

"Okay," Neville shrugged.

Tricia came over and Drake escorted her out on the floor at her request. Rowan asked Arista and they danced near Tricia and Drake, laughing and talking.

"Look at Mel," Drake said excitedly, pointing to where Mel was dancing a complicated  
flamenco step with a fifth-year Gryffindor, her black and white dress swirling and flouncing . Arista, Drake, Tricia, Kit, and Rowan began cheering loudly.

"Way to go, Seton!" they all yelled.

"Ha! I'd like to see anybody call her Staggering Melly now," said Arista.

"Mel the Mambo Queen is more like it," Drake said, clapping as Mel finished her  
dance.

Mel came up to them, all flushed and happy.

"Who taught you to dance, Seton?" asked Drake.

"Would you believe, my aunt?" Mel replied, smiling with unfeigned delight. "See,  
she's dancing with Dumbledore."

They all looked and saw Professor Sprout dancing gaily with Dumbledore.

"But it was all those self-defense lessons that really did it, Arista. All those stupid  
balance on one foot and those other maneuvers you made me do. I guess it knocked the awkward stage right out of me."

"Or you just grew out of it, the way I said you would," Arista countered, grinning at her  
friend.

They all made their way back to the table, tired after all the exertion. Cups of tea and  
hot cocoa were being served, along with several kinds of pastries and cakes.

As they were sampling the desserts, the announcer spoke up, saying the next song, a soft melody, was the last dance of the evening.

Most of the students were sitting down now, slumped over in their chairs, nibbling at  
the desserts. Dumbledore was partnered with McGonagall and Hagrid rose with Madam Maxine, the Headmistress of Beauxbatons, who was the only woman in the room big enough to partner him. Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick paired off too.

Arista darted a glance up at the staff table, and saw her father sitting alone, watching  
the others. "Excuse me," she said suddenly, rising and heading towards the staff table.

Severus looked up at Arista's approach, and smiled. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Yes. This is the last dance of the Ball."

"I know."

"Dance with me?" she held out her hand.

He gaped at her. "You want to dance with _me_? What about Mr. Lockwood over there?"

"I've danced with him all night. But I saved the last dance for you."

He took her hand in his own. "As you wish, Miss Snape."

She allowed him to escort her back to the floor where Dumbledore and some of the  
others were standing. Several of the students gaped at them.

"Uh, Dad? You _can_ dance, right?" she asked, suddenly horrified that she would make  
him embarrass himself in front of the whole school.

Severus glanced down at his daughter and smiled. "No need to worry about that,  
Arista. I know how. Though I must admit I haven't felt like dancing with anyone in over  
thirteen years."

"Not since Mom."

He nodded, placing one hand about her waist. "Until now, that is."

The band began to play, a gentle melody that reminded him of another day, when he'd danced with another auburn-haired woman in a secret glen to a tune played by a bronze dragon. He waltzed carefully with his daughter, who smiled up at him brightly.

"Wow, you're better than Drake."

"I ought to be, I've had more practice," he said, laughing.

"Then I'm glad I saved the best for last. Are you happy, Dad?"

"Very happy. Because of you, Arista."

"_Me_? But I drive you crazy."

"Like all teenagers do their parents. But you know something? Having you in my life  
is the very best thing of all."

Then the Potions Master of Hogwarts twirled his daughter all across the dance floor,  
and for the first time in thirteen years he was happy and at peace with his life and he didn't care who knew of it. Let them stare. The light had come back into his world and that was all that mattered.

So they danced, the Potions Master and his beautiful daughter, and somewhere far  
above them an auburn-haired angel laughed. _What did I tell you, Sev? Nothing is impossible if you believe in love, for that is the greatest magic of all._

**A/N: If you'd like to experience some of the delicious food  
mentioned in this book, scroll down for some recipes from Sev's cookbook. You won't be disappointed!**

Yes, this is the end of my first Sev & Arista novel. I'd appreciate knowing what you  
thought. Who was your favorite character? The spellophone and most of the wizarding magazines are my own creation. What did you think?

But this is NOT the end!! I'll be posting a sequel soon, probably in 2 weeks. Meanwhile, you can read Shadow Puppets or my new one-shot A Friend in Need, which takes place inbetween parts 1 and 2 of TVBT, and stars Maverick and details the infamous eating of Dumbledore's boots among other things! Just a bit of light humor.

The sequel will be called Arista Snape and the Bronze Dragons and it takes place the next summer. Sev and Arista go to America for a vacation and to meet their Amarotti relatives and attend the christening of Colin and Jenna's baby. But then they get involved in hunting down a group of dragonslayers who are trying to slaughter all the bronze dragons, and their leader is Sev's former student! Get ready for an action **packed summer, this is also the novel where you meet Marietta, Sev's adorable mischievous niece, who steals his heart! (And hopefully yours too!) **

**Sev's Cookbook **

**Snape's Honey Bars **  
Makes 10 bars

2 ½ c rolled oats  
½ c & 1 T all purpose flour  
½ t baking soda  
½ t vanilla extract  
¼ c & 2 T butter, softened  
1/4C & 3 t honey  
3 T packed brown sugar  
1 c & 2 T mini semi-sweet chocolate chips  
½ c dried cranberries  
½ c sunflower seeds

Preheat oven to 350º. Lightly grease a 9x13 inch pan. In large mixing bowl, combine  
oats, flour, baking soda, vanilla, butter, honey, & brown sugar. Stir in ½ cups of chips,  
cranberries, & sunflower seeds. Lightly press mixture into pan. Reduce oven temp to 325º and  
bake for 18-22 min. or till golden brown.  
Let cool for 10 min., then cut into bars. Let bars cool completely in pan before  
removing.  
Wrap with plastic wrap or store in an airtight container. Will keep for several weeks,  
longer if you've got a preserving spell. Great to take along hiking or anywhere you need a quick snack.

_You may add or substitute ingredients in place of the chips, sunflower seeds, or  
cranberries, such as nuts or peanut butter chips, ½ c each, according to your preference.  
---Prof. S. Snape _

**Amelia's Lasagna**

Makes enough to feed 8-10 people approx.

_You may make your own sauce as opposed to buying it in a jar (though Amelia says  
that's cheating), but if you do make your own, it takes almost half a day! So, if you're in a hurry, just buy a 24oz jar of your favorite brand of marinara sauce. It will taste fine. All of the seasonings below are to taste, there are no specific measurements (sigh!), so use your own judgement. _  
1 box of lasagna noodles  
2 lbs ground beef  
24 oz jar of marinara sauce or your own recipe  
2 lbs of ricotta cheese  
1 lb. mozzarella, shredded  
2 eggs  
salt  
pepper  
garlic powder  
basil  
grated Parmesan & Romano cheese  
parsley

Brown the ground beef in a large skillet. Drain. In a large mixing bowl place the  
ground beef, ricotta, mozzarella, eggs, and all the spices. Mix thoroughly and taste it. If it needs more of some spice, add it. Set it aside.

Fill a large pot with 6 cups of water and some salt. Put in a dash of vegetable oil.  
Bring to a boil, then add lasagna noodles. Cook according to directions on box. When noodles are done, lift them gently out of the pot and lay them flat on top of pieces of wax paper. (You might need to use a table for this step. I do.) Let them cool until you can handle them without burning your fingers, about 10 min.  
Preheat oven to 350º.  
Get a large metal or glass 13x9 inch pan. Open the jar of sauce and cover the bottom  
of the pan with it. Then top with 3 noodles. Layer some of the meat and cheese mixture over  
it, covering the noodles. Then cover with more sauce. Repeat layers until you have reached  
top of pan. Cover the last layer with sauce. You may also sprinkle with shredded mozzarella,  
if desired. Bake at 350º for 30-40 min or until sauce is bubbly.  
Heats up well as leftovers or you can freeze it. Makes a great Christmas dinner.

---Prof. S. Snape

**Double Chocolate Cake **  
Makes 1 cake, serves 4-8 approx.

2 c flour  
1 T baking powder  
2 eggs  
1 c sour cream  
1 stick unsalted butter, room temp, quartered  
½ c water  
½ t baking soda  
2 c sugar  
2 t vanilla extract  
1 12oz pkg. chocolate chips  
½ c & 2 T cocoa  
1 can of chocolate frosting

Preheat oven to 350º. Sift flour, baking powder, and baking soda into a small mixing  
bowl twice. Beat sugar and eggs in a large mixing bowl until the sugar is dissolved. Add  
butter and mix well. Add sour cream, water, vanilla and beat until blended. Then add flour  
mixture and cocoa, beat slowly just until flout is absorbed—do not overbeat! Fold in  
chocolate chips.  
Grease a large bundt pan. Pour cake batter in and bake at 350º for 1 hour.  
Using a plate, invert the pan until the cake comes out. You may have to run the edge  
of a butter knife around the pan to loosen the cake. Cool on the plate completely before  
frosting.  
This makes a wonderful birthday cake.

---Prof. S. Snape


End file.
